


A Jihoon is not just for Christmas.

by Havokftw



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Autofellatio, Cat/Human Hybrids, Christmas Fluff, Eventual Smut, Friendship/Love, Hot Hybrid Sex, Hybridjihoon, Jealousy, Jicheol, Jihoon is a flexible feline, Jihoon is a kitten and does a lot of cat things, Kittenjihoon, Light Angst, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Past Abuse, Porn With Plot, Prompt Fic, Science and shit, Seungcheol is a clueless but well meaning owner, This fic was meant to be short, Wonwoo is a nerd, gifs, noshame, what have I done?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 94,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9068269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havokftw/pseuds/Havokftw
Summary: Seungcheol gets a mysterious parcel delivered on his doorstep on Christmas eve. He hasn't ordered anything and after he opens it and disrupts the contents, he doesn't want to return it.





	1. This Way Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol gets a mysterious parcel delivered on his doorstep on Christmas eve. He hasn't ordered anything and after he opens it and disrupts the contents, he doesn't want to return it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was emotionally blackmailed on twitter by some Jicheol fam members and my internet wifey to write this. Blame them!

                                                      

 

 

It doesn’t occur to Seungcheol, until he’s driving back from work on Christmas eve, that he hasn’t done any grocery shopping in over a week.

That maybe, _just maybe_ he should make an effort: stop off somewhere that’s still open, and collect the groceries he will need for his super depressing meal for one on Christmas day.

Had he known this job promotion would have entailed a move that would have isolate him from most of his friends and family on Christmas, he might have thought better of accepting it.

But _hey_ , a promotion is a promotion, and the massive pay rise is worth a single, bitter Christmas memory.

Thankfully there is one store still open, but as the shop assistant kindly informs him: _they’re all out of turkeys._

“But we have some very large chickens—maybe you can fool your guests?” He suggests, with an unnecessary brow wiggle.

“Yeah—alright.” Seungcheol accepts, dumping the chicken in his basket and collecting the rest of the items he will need.

* * *

Parking his car in his garage, Seungcheol leans over and plucks his grocery bag out of the passenger seat before climbing out.

As he walks around the back of his car towards his front door he checks his shopping bag contents.

Christmas dinner for one.

A six pack of beer: **_Check_**

One huge fucking Chicken: **_Check_**

All the trimmings: **_Check_**

A _chocolate_ pudding because Christmas pudding has shriveley fruit in it and _who the fuck_ thought putting dried fruit in dessert was a good idea? Eugh!: **_Check_**

Satisfied with his Christmas dinner purchases, Seungcheol retrieves his post from the mailbox and tries to add it to the pile in his arms, dropping a letter in the process.

He stoops with a grunt to retrieve it and only then notices the large cardboard box sitting on the porch.

_I didn’t order anything? Did I?_

He checks the side of the box, carefully tilting it to search for an address label, but there isn't one.

There are no significant markings of any kind, but the box, Seungcheol then realises, has _airholes._

The dotted openings at the top of the sturdy cardboard are big enough and sufficiently widespread to allow air to circulate.

Seungcheol startles when suddenly, the box shakes. He takes a step back, eyeing it suspiciously. 

Reaching over to slowly unlock his front door, he shoves the box roughly into the hallway with the heel of his shoe, ignoring the signs that clearly read **‘THIS WAY UP’** and **‘FRAGILE’**.

Slamming the front door shut, he covers the distance from the door to the kitchen quickly, depositing his chicken in the fridge and dropping his other items on the counterp before unsheathing a large kitchen knife from the stand and returning to the mysterious parcel.  

_Okay, better open it and see if there are any 'return to sender' details inside._

Seungcheol contemplates the knife in his hand for a second before determining it should do the trick, sharp enough to pierce through that tough cardboard.

He raises the knife, aiming to slash through the cardboard and freezes, because the box _shakes_ again. Just ever so slightly, but it _does_ move.

Thinking better of it, he sets the knife down and attempts to tear at the cardboard with his bare hands for a good few minutes, until he notices a grey tab on the side of the box that reads _‘Pull to open’._

_Oh for fucks sake!_

By this time he’s almost lost his patience with the mystery package and wants to hurl it out the door, but perseveres and pulls the tab.

He steps back as the carboard walls pull up and then drop down slowly, revealing a large wicker basket inside and………….

_What the...._

“Holy shit.” He gasps.

Well, there are ears and a tail, _that_ he can't help but notice instantly, but there are also small arms and small legs and a round face and he should be used to it by now because hybrids are _everywhere_ on TV but....

 _Damn--_ up close in person, they're something else entirely.

This is the first time Seungcheol has seen a hybrid in the flesh, and he’d thought they would be.... _creepier?_

But not this one, no.

This one is precious: small and compact with pale limbs and dainty features, golden brown curly hair falling into his big round eyes.

The Hybrid abruptly affects a mock frown, his eyes narrowing and a micro pout forms on his lips.

 _Adorable_ is the first thought that comes to mind. The second is _FRAGILE_ and the third is _THIS WAY UP_ and Seungcheol sheepishly scratches the back of his head as he remembers manhandling the box into the corridor earlier.

He probably derved that pout, but it’s not like he could have _known_ there was a living creature inside! A chill descends through him when he remembers he almost took a knife to that box.

The hybrid is also noticeably... _naked._

Okay, so he’s not _butt_ naked but he might as well be, cause he’s wearing the tiniest pair of short and socks and that’s pretty much it.

_Damn!_

_How long was he sitting out on the porch for?_

_The poor thing must be freezing._

Seungcheol realises he’s standing there still gaping for what must be an unacceptable amount of time and swiftly schools his features into arch nonchalance.

“Wha-“ Seungcheol’s face flames and he breaks off, choking a startled laugh of disbelief down as he realises he has literally no idea where to begin.

“Sup!” He offers, then cringes cause it’s like the dumbest thing to say, but he can’t say nothing. Not when this hybrid is sitting there, looking up helplessly at him and—is he shivering?

“Hello.” He tries again, slightly clearer this time as his vocal chords and brain kick into gear enough to work in unison, it seems.

Then the hybrid is raising an arm and shaking an envelope at Seungcheol like that’s supposed to mean something to him, rolling his eyes at the blank look Seungcheol gives him in response. 

“Is this for me?” Seungcheol asks.

The hybrid nods, lips twitching into a small smile.

“Thank you!” Seungcheol coos, for some reason.

_Why the fuck am I talking to it like a baby?_

Seungcheol plucks the envelope from its outstretched arm and opens it, keeping an eye on the small figure still kneeling in the basket.

_\------------------------------------------------------_

_To my new Owner…._

_Hello Friend!_

_My name is Jihoon! But you may call me what you please, you only need to ask and my name will change!_

_Thank you for purchasing me! I am the perfect house pet. I can care for myself and tend to all your needs! I only ask the you feed and clothe me and give me lots of cuddles!*_

_Please refer to the care manual for further details and remember, you have 28 days to return me if you are unsatisfied!**_

_Thank you!_

_LTD: PLEDIS PETS_

_*Note: Not all hybrids require or tolerate cuddles, please refer to the manual for detailed advice regarding your purchased breed._

_**Subject to terms and conditions of purchase._

_\-----------------------------------------------_

_He must be somebody’s Christmas present,_ Seungceol thinks with dawning realization.

_A really fucking expensive Christmas present!_

His eyebrows crawl upwards as he reads the invoice summary at the bottom of the letter.

He freezes when Jihoon leisurely levers himself up onto his knees, lithe with feline grace and starts bumping his nose over his forearm kittenishly, scenting him, nose twitching delicately as he sniffs. 

“Did you write this letter?” Seungcheol asks, although he doesn’t expect an answer.

He really wants to ask, _‘Do you think I smell nice?’_ , but he's sure that will come off weird.

“Nope.” The hybrid says, shaking its head and dropping down again. “It’s a standard issue, all first time owners get a letter and a manual.” He explains.

Seungcheol blinks in surprise.

He wasn’t expecting a verbal response even though that annoying 'Milk' commercial plays during ever ad break and it has nothing but dancing hybrids in it singing that god awful song.

Jihoon cocks a brow as he elegantly shifts in the basket, settling on his heels and Seungcheol can just make out a hard backed book tucked behind him.

Slowly, he slides his palm out, extending it in tiny increments as though the smallest displacement of air between them might break the calm and scare the hybrid and then – holding his breath – he gently reaches around Jihoon to grasp the book and pulls back quickly.

“So, Jihoon? Am I pronouncing that right?” Seungcheol asks, and the name feels thick and slow in his mouth.

“Yes, Jihoon. And how should I refer to you?.” Jihoon asks, voice faint.

“Oh, right—uh, Seungcheol is fine. Cheol for short.” Seungcheol says, rocking back on his heels as he thinks of his next sentence. “Uhh—listen Jihoon. I think there has been a little mix up, so I’m going to read through this manual and contact Pledis pets because-“

“Have I displeased you?” Jihoon whispers, his voice is quiet, contemplative.

When Seungcheol meets his gaze, he has a strange expression, soft-eyed and sad, like someone revisiting the memory of a hurt so old it was hardly more than a picture in a scrapbook.

Seungcheol's face softens looking down at him, because Jihoon appears to actually be  _nervous_ , and the sheer absurdity of that pushes Seungcheol to respond reassuringly.

“No, I—No. I just, wanted to check a few things.” He says, reaching out to ruffle a hand through Jihoon’s hair, marvelling at the baby soft locks that slip through his fingers.

The ears that are laid flat against Jihoon’s hair, perk up out of his hair tufts at the sensation and Seungcheol marvels at them too.

They're really quite lovely, Jihoon’s cat ears, brown and gold specks of fur, covering pale pink inner flesh, twitching delicately atop his head.

Jihoon sighs softly, tilting his head up into the caress and reaches up to tug absentmindedly at his collar. It’s thick and shiny, probably made of some unforgiving polymer material. It looks highly uncomfortable, if the red raw chaffing of the surrounding skin is anything to go by.

“Is your collar too tight?” Seungcheol asks.

“No, it’s fine.” Jihoon says shortly.

There is something sour on his face, something with sharp edges and guarded eyes, and Seungcheol can’t help but wonder. 

He drops down to Jihoon’s height instinctively, pulling away the ornamental ribbon and bow from around Jihoon’s basket before reaching up to unbuckle the collar and loosening it a few notches until it dips loosely around Jihoon’s neck.

He wouldn’t have noticed the flash of surprise in Jihoon’s features, if he hadn’t been looking for it specifically, watching Jihoon’s face for anything to confirm his suspicions.

_He hates this collar._

The skin underneath is visibly irritated, chaffed raw and red.

 

Seungcheol opens his mouth to ask if Jihoon would prefer he remove the collar entirely,  but just then Jihoon’s body shivers in the chill of the hallway.

“Oh shit, you’re cold. Let’s get you out of this.” Seungcheol tuts then pauses, assessing his next move before reaching forward and curling his arms around the small body, lifting Jihoon carefully out of the basket.

It’s a strange sensation cradling Jihoon, yet simultaneously familiar; like he’s always belonged in Seungcheol’s arms, like it’s the thousandth time instead of the first.

“Okay, so, I’m going to take you somewhere warmer, it’s a little cold out here.” He coaxes, straightening up and carrying Jihoon into the kitchen.

Seungcheol sets him down on the counter and drops the heavy manual down as well.

“Sorry about the boxes, I just moved in a month ago and I haven’t had time to unpack everything just yet.” He explains.

Jihoon balances on the edge of the counter and watches him, arms folded over his chest in an attempt to retain some warmth.

“Ok—hold on, stay right there I am going to get something.” Seungcheol holds out a hand, gesturing for Jihoon to remain in place while he darts out of the kitchen and down the corridor to the bedroom.

He returns with a thick, fluffy jumper and doesn’t hesitate to bundle it over Jihoon’s head.

It’s easily three sizes too big and falls mid-thigh on Jihoon’s slight frame, but it’s warm at least and Jihoon isn’t complaining.

In fact, he’s sighing in relief and poking his head out of the neck to smile at Seungcheol shyly. His fingertips barely poke out of the armholes and Jihoon warms himself further by tucking his knees against his chest so that the jumper falls down over them.

He now resembles a snowman- jumper hybrid of sorts and it’s achingly cute.

“Better?” Seungcheol chuckles, not bothering to keep the amusement out of his voice when Jihoon’s head nearly disappears under the neck of the jumper.

“Yes, thank you.” Jihoon agrees softly, ducking his head and blushing under Seungcheol’s watchful gaze.

Seungcheol's eye catches a slight slither of movement and his eyes focus in on Jihoon’s tail, slithering back and forth over the counter top.

So entranced, he reaches for it, aching to feel the silky fur slip between his fingers but Jihoon hisses at him before his fingertips even make contact, baring his sharp canines.

“Woah, ok. Sorry.” Seungcheol placates, promptly jerking backwards, his arm held out in front of him.

It seems like enough of a gesture to pacify Jihoon, who practically crumples in on himself with a flush after Seungcheol steps back.

Jihoon ducks his head, flattens his ears back and tucks his tail beneath his thigh, shying out of sight.

“Sorry.” Jihoon murmurs, picking at the hem of his sweater anxiously.

Seungcheol scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s okay, you don’t like people touching your tail. I get it. There’s probably something in the manual about it.” he murmurs, taking a careful step forward.

“I should probably read it before I touch you some more. Wait, didn’t mean it like th-“

“There is nothing in the manual about it.” Jihoon interjects quickly “It’s just, my preference. My tail is— _sensitive.“_ he admits, blushing when Seungcheol continues to stare at him.

“Of course, sorry. I won’t try to touch it again.” Seungcheol assures. 

* * *

“Again, I’m sorry about the boxes. Most of my kitchen is in these boxes so you will have to bare with me while I search through them.” Seungcheol says.

He’s busy rummaging through his cupboards and his half empty fridge, trying to piece together something adequately edible and satisfying to feed his guest, but his mind draws a blank.

_What do hybrids even eat?_

_Do they have allergies?_

_Do they eat tinned food like domestic pets or what?_

“I usually eat out cause it’s pointless to cook for one person,“ He continues. “So, I’m sorry my fridge is a little bare but-” He falters as he hears Jihoon’s sudden hum of understanding and a rustling of paper.

He tilts his head and sees Jihoon nosing the brown paper bag on the counter next to him, the one Seungcheol carried in earlier.

“Oh, that? It’s just beer in there I’m afraid, oh….and chocolate pudding.” He remembers, shutting the fridge door, reaching out to rip open the bag and pulling out the desert.

Jihoon sniffs around the lid of the container, tilting his head, gazing curiously at the sticky, spongey goo as Seungcheol pries the lid off.

“I need to heat it first, then you can eat it-with, ice cream? _Maybe?”_ Seungcheol thinks out loud.

Jihoon’s smile is small and private and aimed more at the pudding than at Seungcheol, but Seungcheol is still willing to count it as a success. 

He is wondering whether he should refer to the manual before he feeds Jihoon.

Maybe chocolate pudding and ice-cream sets off some kind of Gremlin reaction and maybe Jihoon mauls his face off later.

Probably not. But just in case, he flips through the book quickly as the pudding rotates in the microwave.

The book covers every mundane detail under the sun, but Seungcheol can’t find anything about hybrid reactions to chocolate pudding or ice cream. So when the timer dings, he lets the pudding cool before dropping a massive dollop of ice cream on top.

No sooner has he brought the bowl over to the counter, has Jihoon started lapping on the spoon in his hand eagerly.

“Woah, okay, you must have been hungry huh?” Seungcheol laughs, watching as a small pink tongue darts out to lap at the remnants of chocolate sponge staining the spoon.

Jihoon makes a little whimpering sound when he takes his first real bit of pudding and each spoonful thereafter is quickly accepted and savoured. 

He must either be famished or this must be the best chocolate pudding ever because Jihoon can't get enough and a few times Seungcheol has to hold him down, calm and reassure him that the food was in fact, _not going anywhere._

The hybrid is so intent on relishing every drop he even pokes his head into the bowl to lick it clean, inadvertently getting chocolate on the bridge of his nose and forehead.

Seungcheol chuckles warmly and reaches out to wipe the smear off with his thumb. Jihoon goes cross-eyed briefly as he follows his hand movements and when Seungcheol retracts his arm, Jihoon darts forward to capture the thumb between his lips, suckling the chocolate off carefully with smooth swipes of his tongue.

“Okay, so....you have a sweet tooth, that’s for sure." he grins, watching Jihoon clean himself.

"I wish I had time to unpack these boxes then I could feed you properly. Christmas eve isn’t exactly the best day to go shopping but you can have the whole fucking turkey tomorrow if you want it.” Seungcheol offers and the smile he gets in return is breath-taking, Jihoon's flushed cheeks dimpling.

Seungcheol chuckles a little, reaching up to rub Jihoon at the base of his ears.

The sensation startles a purr out of him and he quickly muffles it into the neck of the jumper bashfully.

* * *

 

After polishing off desert and practically licking the spoon, the bowl and Seungcheol’s fingers clean, Jihoon is still peckish.

Seungcheol rummages around in the various cardboard boxes still unpacked in the kitchen until Jihoon points to a bag of Microwave popcorn with barely contained excitement on his face.

“Popcorn? Really? I was thinking you’d want tuna or something but popcorn is good.” Seungcheol muses with a shrug of his shoulders.

He prepares the popcorn and dispenses it into a large bowl, before handing it to Jihoon who pads back into the living room carrying it protectively.

He settles Jihoon on the large couch, nestles him in a pile of soft blankets to keep him warm.

The room is dark save for the flickering television, and Seungcheol flips on the lamp. The muted light barely reaches Jihoon, throwing him into half-shadow and Seungcheol notes that his ears shift forward, truly relaxed for the first time all day.

There's plenty of room on the sofa, but Seungcheol gives him his space and sits at the far end, stretching heavily against the cushions, back popping pleasantly.

“It’s Christmas eve so, most of the movies showing are of— _the Christmas variety._ That okay with you?” Seungcheol asks, flipping through the channels.

Jihoon nods in response, his eyes are intent, on the screen, delicate pink fingers holding the bowl so deftly.

* * *

Halfway through the movie, Jihoon is crunching away at his bowl of popcorn when it suddenly slips from his fingers and scatters on the ground.

 _“No._ My popcorn.” Jihoon whines quietly, conveying his deep horror and regret by way of wide eyes and dramatically raised eyebrows.

“Hey, it’s fine. I can make you more.” Seungcheol assures with a warm smile.

And it _is_  fine, it's just popcorn and popcorn can be easily cleaned up, with a vacuum cleaner.

Jihoon continues to mourn the loss of the popcorn with a displeased line forming between his brows and a small pout, while Seungcheol busies himself rolling out the vacuum cleaner.

The moment he switches it on is the moment he has an armful of Jihoon, or more accurately, a face full of Jihoon to contend with.

A heavy breath whooshes out through Seungcheol’s lungs as Jihoon leaps on to him and Seungcheol drops his grip on the vacuum to grasp Jihoon’s thighs.

The hoover is still on, twitching on the ground as it sucks up empty air, but now Jihoon is wrapped around his torso and face, like one of those alien face huggers, mewling in distress.

Seungcheol fumbles, trying to detach him from his face, but Jihoon isn’t budging, arms tight around Seungcheol’s head and legs encircling his chest in a vice like grip.

 _Finally,_ Seungcheol manages to blindly pat around the vacuum and switch it off.

“So, I take it you don’t like hoovers?” Seungcheol questions mildly, but Jihoon is already climbing down off of him, staring down the vacuum with icy intensity.

Seungcheol is mesmerized by the feline spine, arching gracefully, the brown tail stiffening and bristling as Jihoon circles the machine suspiciously.

“Is it dead?” Jihoon asks, nearly whispering now, as if the hoover might come back to life and vacuum him up at any moment.

Seungcheol comes  _this close_  to laughing hysterically, but thankfully chokes it down.

“No. I’ve incapacitated it. You can’t kill this beast! But, fear not—I shall lock it away— _forever.”_ Seungcheol tries to stifle his amusement and rolls the hoover back to the airing cupboard from whence it came!

By vanquishing the evil hoover and making a fresh bowl of popcorn, Seungcheol has inevitably earned a small amount of adoration from Jihoon, who softens towards him a little.

Or perhaps _a lot._

He scoots closer to Seungcheol on the couch in small increments, reducing the space between them bit by bit.

Just as Seungcheol is getting immersed in the film again, he feels a small hand rest on his forearm, patting gently. Jihoon’s fingertips leave a warm tingling in their wake and Seungcheol turns his head to find Jihoon holding out the popcorn for Seungcheol to share with him.

“You’re sweet, but it’s okay. You can eat them all to yourself.” Seungcheol encourages, laying a warm hand on the back of Jihoon’s neck to caress his curls.

Strangely, this gesture translates into Jihoon feeling comfortable and safe enough around Seungcheol, to start rubbing up against him.

“Uhh—are you cold?” Seungcheol hazards, because maybe the jumper is not insulating enough and Jihoon just needs some body heat?

“No.” he replies quickly, butting his head against Seungcheol’s side and squirming, rubbing his thigh against Seungcheol’s hip.

“Do—do you need the bathroom?” Seungcheol asks, because Jihoon is shifting and mewling and nudging at his arm and maybe he needs to relieve himself but is too embarrassed to say something.

“No.” Jihoon whines, helplessly shuddering against him.

Seungcheol’s lips quirk, torn between confusion and awe of the small hybrid currently humping his arm. “Then, what’s wrong?”

“Hnnnnnnn” Jihoon whines again, rubbing the top of his head against Seungcheol’s jaw.

“I’m so confused, let me get the manual.” Seungcheol says, moving to stand. He’s prevented from doing so when Jihoon climbs gracefully into his lap, his thighs riding high on Seungcheol’s waist as he continues butting his head against Seungcheol’s chest.

Suddenly it’s super inappropriate city: Population: Seungcheol and Jihoon.

“Jihoon I,” Seungcheol pauses, raking a hand through his hair in bemusement. “I don’t know what you want.” he says.

Jihoon snuffles at the air, then, his nose quivering. “Hnn….pet me.” He murmurs.

“Uh—what?” Seungcheol gawks.

“Hnn, pet me, _pettt mee.”_ Jihoon whimpers, starting to mewl softly again.

A strange fluttering starts up in his stomach at the request. “Ok—like a dog-er I mean--like a cat?” Seungcheol asks, but Jihoon doesn’t answer, he merely presses up against Seungcheol’s chest and mewls.

Slowly, Seungcheol reaches out to the to the top of Jihoon’s head and scratches between his ears, rubbing the spot with his thumb.

Jihoon purrs, once, a harsh burst of vibration. Feeling braver, Seungcheol, cups the back of his head and kneads slowly, watching as Jihoon’s eyes close into thin slits.

“Is this good? Like—am I doing-“ Seungcheol begins, pausing to slide a warm palm around Jihoon’s nape and massaging lightly. “Am I doing it right?” 

A quick nod is all he gets in reply before Jihoon melts against his chest.

Jihoon’s fingers sink deep into Seungcheol’s t-shirt, slender body quaking with thunderous purrs as Seungcheol runs his palm down his back slowly.

Seungcheol grins, all of his tension releasing in one fantastic rush at hearing the pleased sounds escaping Jihoon’s body.

Seungcheol slips his hands around Jihoon’s waist, boxing him in as his thumbs rub circles over his hips.

Jihoon doesn't exactly nuzzle in to his neck, but he tilts his head against Seungcheol’s shoulder and emits a low throaty purr that echoes throughout the house, underlain with a splintered note of desperation.

Seungcheol takes the chance to kiss his nose, then the soft curve of a feline ear before he starts petting him in earnest.

Starting at the top, he smoothes his hand from the top of Jihoon’s head, between his shoulders blades and down to the small of his back, mindful of the tail coiled tightly around Jihoon’s waist.

A soft ear brushes his cheek and Seungcheol tilts his head to examine Jihoon’s profile. Jihoon’s eyes are half-mast with bliss, heavy lashes fluttering, lips slightly parted as he pants and he’s kneading Seungcheol’s chest with small curled fists.

A deep purr vibrates against his chest as Seungcheol rubs his hand back up again, slipping it underneath the jumper to smooth across the soft skin of Jihoon’s back.

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to make of the turn in events.

Reasonable thought is kind of out the window at this point, _obviously_ , because when Jihoon kneads the top of his head against Seungcheol’s jaw again, Seungcheol is compelled to turn his face and nip at Jihoon’s cat ear.

Just a gentle bite, hardly a kiss of teeth but Jihoon gasps all the same and instead of pulling away he tilts his head and flick his ears back over Seungcheol’s lips, taunting and teasing.

Seungcheol doesn’t know what possesses him to nip the ear again, but he does, another faint brush of teeth and Jihoon gasps again, drawing it out into a low whine.

Seungcheol’s palms can't seem to leave Jihoon's body, caressing the gentle slope of his back with something akin to reverence. And with each pet he delivers, Jihoon quivers beneath his touch, releasing little satisfied sighs and mews that reverberate throughout the room as he presses more firmly against Seungcheol’s chest.

An unexplainable impulse has Seungcheol burying his nose in Jihoon’s soft hair and inhaling deeply.

It triggers something primal in Seungcheol, a splinter of need digging deep into the most primitive part of his brain and an animalistic rumble resonates from somewhere in his chest.

He drags his palm down the slope of Jihoon's back again, skimming over the fabric of the jumper to the lush curve of Jihoon’s ass.

Jihoon mewls and arches his back, thighs splaying wide as he pushes his butt up against Seungcheol’s palm, requesting more attention.

“Hmm, you like that?” Seungcheol rumbles, patting one pert butt cheek, wonderment making him sound as though he were miles away, his voice the merest whisper in the air between them.

“Yes, nice, _mo-more_.” Jihoon chokes, the statement stuttering off into a gasp of pleasure as Seungcheol caresses the base of his tail.

Jihoon mews happily, then begins to roll his hips tightly down into Seungcheol’s lap and up into his palm, as he arches his neck in silent supplication.

“Such a pretty kitty.” Seungcheol grunts, dipping his head to mouth hotly along the delicate skin along Jihoon’s jaw.

A full-body shiver wracks Jihoon’s small frame at the feel of Seungcheol’s lips on his skin and he tips his head back as Seungcheol suckles a path down the pale length of his throat.

The slow shift of their bodies is maddening, liquid rumblings vibrate the space between them as Jihoon kneads Seungcheol’s chest, tail quivering with pleasure on each grind down.  

Seungcheol can now feel Jihoon’s hardness poking his stomach, can feel his thighs shivering as Jihoon writhes on his lap, eyes squeezed shut and lush pink mouth parted.

“Seungcheol,” Jihoon rumbles, rolling down against the cradle of his hips, “hnn—feels good.”

“Yeah, me too.” Seungcheol breathes, thumb skimming the curve of Jihoon’s hips, pulling him closer, enjoying the hot, solid weight of Jihoon’s body pressing him down into the cushions.

“Grrhhhmm.” Seungcheol groans encouragingly as he circles his hips beneath the slow grind and swivel of Jihoon’s above him.

Then, the credits started to roll as the movie ends and the sound of Jihoon’s purring is distinctly deafening in the silence.

Seungcheol’s entire body goes stiff, suddenly aware of his actions and he snaps back to reality and his hands grasp the bare flesh of Jihoon’s thighs to stop his grinding motions.

“Hnn—no, please.” Jihoon mewls, ears pulling back as he protests the stilling of his movements.

“Shhh, shhh, good kitty.” Seungcheol coos, smoothing his palms down Jihoon's trembling flanks. Holding Jihoon in place for a beat, their breath rattling as seconds seem too short to hold their hammering heartbeats.

A minute later, Seungcheol shifts Jihoon carefully off his lap, breaking free of their cocoon of almost impossible sudden intimacy and shushing Jihoon as he whines softly when he is forced to pull his fingers deftly free from Seungcheol’s t-shirt.

Seungcheol settles him down onto the side of the couch again, as he grabs a cushion and places it over his lap to cover his evident arousal.

Seungcheol closes his eyes, a wash of cold dread coursing down his spine, heavy with the abrupt and awful notion that he has done something wrong.

Jihoon is sitting silently next to him, watching him and makes Seungcheol’s skin prickle--not in a bad way.

“It’s getting late,” Seungcheol’s voice is soft, possibly out of deference to the time. “I think we should get some sleep.” He suggests, breaths fluttering nervously in and out of his lungs.

_Because I’m losing my fucking mind!_

* * *

“The bed in the guest room is actually more comfortable than mine.” Seungcheol informs Jihoon, for what feels like the tenth time.

It seems to him that the sleeping choices here are near-boundless, but Jihoon it seems is averse to taking Seungcheol’s opinions on sleeping arrangements into consideration.

After their little altercation on the couch and after they prepare for sleep, Seungcheol gives Jihoon a tour of the guest bedroom, which had been set up for a family visit that never materialised.

Jihoon walks around the room tentatively, sniffing and inspecting it as Seungcheol watches from the doorway.

He returns to Seungcheol’s side and tugs on his sleeve. “Where do you sleep?” He asks gently.

“Uhh, down the corridor.” Seungcheol answers, a little hesitant.

Then Jihoon stares up at him, with big sparkling eyes, soft lips tight and quivering until something warms in Seungcheol's chest and he finds himself saying. “You wanna sleep with me?”

 _What a choice of words_ : Seungcheol thinks, and a smile is quirking the corners of his lips before he can suppress it.

Jihoon looks surprised for a moment, then delighted, answering his question by the set of his ears and the unfurling of his tail.

Seungcheol guides him down the corridor numbly and pushes his bedroom door open. Jihoon turns his head between him and the bed a few times, clearly waiting for some kind of permission.

“Uhm, knock yourself out.” Seungcheol says, nodding towards the bed and Jihoon climbs up onto one corner slowly and curls himself into a ball near the edge, tail out and thumping softly against the mattress.

It’s probably the most catlike trait he’s displayed yet, but Seungcheol thinks it’s largely rehearsed for the benefit of new owners getting acclimatised to their new pets.

Part of him wants to suggest to Jihoon that he sleeps as he wishes, under the covers next to Seungcheol-- _if he wishes_. The more rational part of his mind, the one that is still replaying their bump and grind on the sofa earlier, is telling him to shut the fuck up.

He climbs into bed and pulls the covers up around himself, making himself comfortable. 

Just as Seungcheol's about to reach over and dim the lamp switch, Jihoon’s head turns to regard him, wild-eyed and anxious, fluttering uncertainly at the foot of the bed.

He's got such a _pleading_ look on his face that Seungcheol aches in sympathy pain. 

“Do, do you—“ Seungcheol starts to say, even though his brain is screaming **DON’T DO IT!** “Do, you want to sleep next to me?”

No sooner have the words left his mouth, has Jihoon crawled up to his side and slipped under the covers, curving into the warm bulk of Seungcheol’s chest and burying his nose against his bicep.

_Why do I do this to myself?_

Jihoon makes a soft, scoffing noise as he drags his nose against the curve of Seungcheol’s muscled arm, turning his head up quickly to whisper. “Night-night.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” Seungcheol croaks, clearing his throat briefly as Jihoon attempts to snuggle his way further beneath him.

* * *

Seungcheol is lying on his back, his fingers picking distractedly at a raw thread from the hem of his t-shirt, anything to keep his hands to himself.

It’s been nearly two hours of blinking at the dark ceiling and Seungcheol can’t sleep. Thoughts are banging off the inside of his skull, most of them directly related to the little hybrid lying next to him.

It’s not that he’s uncomfortable, in fact, he’s super fucking comfortable.

There within lies the problem gnawing at him. 

_He shouldn’t be._

This _should_ feel _weird_ and _wrong, but it's not_  and he can’t help but think that the more comfortable Jihoon gets, the worse it will be when Seungcheol returns him.

The hybrid in question, is curled up asleep beside Seungcheol, the warmth of his skin a sore temptation.

He has a hand on Seungcheol’s chest, fisted into Seungcheol’s shirt; his face is pressed into Seungcheol’s shoulder, small slack mouth faintly damp.

Jihoon’s breath puffs warm against his neck, chest rising and falling with the even rhythm of sleep.

It’s a new kind of strange having something warm in his bed, something curling up against him, plaint and willing.

The more Seungcheol lingers on it the more he realises _he’s_ going to be the one tugging when it comes to handing Jihoon over to his rightful owners.

Who _obviously_ don’t deserve him-whoever the fuck they are.

The worst part, Seungcheol thinks, as he lies awake that night, is that he can tell it's not the first time Jihoon has had a new ‘owner’.

In his head, Seungcheol replays Jihoon's fidgeting hands, his trembling fingers, the way he would play with his collar just to move it an inch or so – wanting to be rid of it, not wanting to say so.

Seungcheol just wants to keep him, make him his own. Maybe buy him nice soft collars, cute little outfits and a little bell for his little tail.

 _Well, I've obviously lost my mind,_  Seungcheol grimly muses.  _Time to move._

He sighs and shifts himself sideways, trying to dislodge Jihoon from his grip but then Jihoon’s breath hitches, a small mewl almost catching him by surprise and Seungcheol stiffens and quickly returns to his original position.

Jihoon burrows closer, his breathing returning to low and steady, relaxing hum as it burns Seungcheol’s chest with each exhale, leaving him giddy and somehow distant.

Seungcheol sniggers self-deprecatingly, a blush suffusing his skin as he recalls the urgency that had spurred him into rutting against the little hybrid earlier.

Thank god he stopped himself when he did or else, who knows what could have happened.

Seungcheol wet his lips and swallows back a low groan of need as the actuality of what he would have done bleeds through, past his overall appreciation of the hybrid spread out sleeping, silently begging to be touched.

Just thinking about it is making Seungcheol hard, so hard that it actively  _hurts_ when his erection rubs against the confines of cloth. But he can’t risk a quick squeeze, so sure is he that even the slightest touch would have him coming in his boxers or waking Jihoon.

But he could allow himself one quick, guilty pleasure.

_Just one._

So, slowly, with great care as not to disturb Jihoon, Seungcheol dips his head to press a tender kiss to the petal-soft curve of Jihoon’s lips. Just the damp drag of Jihoon’s curving lips over Seungcheol’s, dawns the realisation of so many yearnings that Seungcheol _shivers_ with need.

His eyes flutter shut and he hums with gentle bliss as he carefully ghosts his fingers over Jihoon’s cheek.

That’s all he’s allowing himself. It’s brief, it’s quick, it’s satisfying, but when he leans back, that’s when he catches Jihoon smiling softly in his sleep and suddenly, Seungcheol can’t help himself.

The fingers of one hand splay across the plane of one firm thigh as he tilts Jihoon against him and dips his head once more to press another kiss on those lips.

Jihoon moans slowly, his lips catching further – opening against the barely there pressure of the motion - and Seungcheol doesn’t even try to stifle his quiet moan of appreciation as just the delicate tip of Jihoon’s tongue slides into his mouth.

With the hot, tentative press of Jihoon’s tongue against his mouth, Seungcheol simply  _has_  to smile – euphoric and close-lipped.

And that....is when Jihoon’s eyes snap open.


	2. Chasing Tail

When Jihoon opens his eyes, Seungcheol jerks in surprise, losing himself in the whirling mixture of wonder and confusion—even a hint of suspicion there. “Shit.” Seungcheol breathes the word, involuntary and heavy with grovelling dismay.

"Seungcheol." Jihoon whispers, tentatively touching his lips, as if he could find evidence of Seungcheol's kiss there.

The silence that follows is a little stifling. "I was—I was—I was." Seungcheol stammers.

_I was just checking you were breathing—by kissing you in your sleep?_

_I was just checking you were warm enough—by sticking my tongue in your mouth?_

No logical explanation presents itself, and his excuse grinds to a halt. Jihoon regards him with a low-lidded gaze for a moment, silent but for the slow, sure breaths of sleep quickening into wakefulness. Seungcheol’s breath falters in his chest as he looks down into those soft, dark depths, noticing a small furrow between the eyebrows. Then slowly, Jihoon turns his body against the close embrace of Seungcheol’s arm around his waist until he is lying flat atop of Seungcheol, chin resting on his chest.

Jihoon blinks up at him for another moment before angling forward to brush his lips to Seungcheol’s, just once, the wet pressure lingering on his lips, the act leaving Seungcheol unhinged and foolish and lost.

_Okay—cool—awesome—what the fuck do I do now!?_

There’s nothing he can do apparently, because Jihoon drifts off to sleep again soon after, now completely sprawled over Seungcheol, trapping him further.

…………………………………………………………

Seungcheol is awake for most of the night. Finally around 3am, he manages to roll Jihoon slowly underneath him to the warm area of the mattress he had been occupying, before sliding out of the bed and exiting the room noiselessly. He tries to nap on the couch for a short spell but images of Jihoon haunt him every time he closes his eyes; the petite frame, the ridiculous, ridiculously soft brown curls of hair, the sparkling eyes and petal soft pink lips. His fingers itch to stroke that satin skin again, his groin aching at the very thought and he rolls on to his back to stop himself from humping the blasted couch in frustration. Staring up at the ceiling, he listens to the deafening darkness of the house at night, a counterpoint to the thudding in his chest.

Seungcheol has absolutely no chance of sleeping with such perverted thoughts beating around his head and by the time the sun has risen, he's long since given up wrestling with his desire for Jihoon. Even if he's not planning to act on that desire, it doesn’t stop his from reaching for the hybrid manual and studiously pruning through the index to find anything about _sex, sex with hybrids or getting to 4 th base with hybrids_. Unfortunately, the manual is vague about sexual relationships and probably for the obvious reasons: _nobody in their right mind would want to fuck their hybrid. Right?_

Undeterred, Seungcheol decides to pull up some of the research articles about _Hybrid-Sex_ , referenced in the manual. But each one is like 50 bijillion pages long, written in Comic Sans with a font size of 2 and Seungcheol reads half a page before groaning miserably and admitting defeat.

Tittering at his own shamelessness, Seungcheol drops the manual back on the coffee table and strolls into the kitchen; he might as well make a head start on Christmas dinner.

………………………………………..

 

The giant chicken is prepped and ready to go into the oven for dinner later. The kitchen is clean and Seungcheol even manages to do some online shopping and unpack a few more moving boxes before his thoughts nosedive into perverse territory once again. Pouring himself a large cup of coffee from the carafe, he swipes open his phone and hovers over the Google search bar. The little cursor blinks innocently, and he stares at it for a while, thinking of what to type.  He wonders if the government really does monitor everyone’s Google searches, like that one conspiracy documentary had him believing.

He weighs the pros and cons of it, accepting that; this can of worms, once opened, will be very difficult to close. And because he’s a self-destructive idiot, he searches anyway!

 **_ SEARCH: _ ** _Can I fuck my hybrid?_

No—scratch that. Seungcheol quickly backspaces that search term, lips thinning

 **_ SEARCH: _ ** _Is it normal to want to fuck your hybrid?_

Holy shit, was he really considering this? Jihoon was a  _Hybrid_ \--a Hybrid that didn’t even belong to him technically. How could he even think of exposing him to that kind of attention? Yeah, Jihoon kissed him back and they did some heavy petting on the couch yesterday but he would likely freak if Seungcheol touched him— _down there._ Wouldn’t he? He sighs and types in a different search.

 **_ SEARCH: _ ** _Can Hybrids find Humans attractive?_

The search crops up a queue of answers but Seungcheol doesn’t even look at them, he clicks out of the browser and swipes his phone shut immediately when he hears his bedroom door swinging open, followed by the quiet padding of footsteps in the corridor. For one insane moment, he scrambles for something to do, something to make him look busy, occupied, as if Jihoon wouldn’t buy the idea of him drinking coffee in his kitchen as normal behaviour. As if Jihoon, walking in on him at the moment would know the awful, perverted things Seungcheol had been searching on his phone. He shakes that stupid thoughts from his head but remains silent anyway, keeping an ear open.

Jihoon’s footsteps are slow at first, like he’s quietly moving around, searching for something. Then as the seconds tick by, they become more rushed and frantic until Seungcheol hears a small meowl of anguish and he’s instinctively prompted to call out to Jihoon.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

The footsteps rush faster then and Jihoon slides into the kitchen, slipping on the tiled floors in his socks and sliding right under the kitchen table. Jihoon then pokes his head out from underneath the table and Seungcheol can’t miss the instant relief flooding his expression when he sets eyes on him. He prowls forward on all fours and upon reaching Seungcheol’s slumped posture leaning against the counter, Jihoon begins to nuzzle against his legs. Seungcheol’s lips upturn into a smile and he lets out a small noise of amusement. Jihoon seemed almost panicked, as if he’d been abandoned in an empty house with no escape and on some level it seems so absurd that it’s humorous.

Suddenly, it hits him and Seungcheol knows there isn't anything to really laugh about. In fact, it was so serious it was painful. What had happened to the hybrid that made him react like that? What sort of abuse had he endured that caused him to automatically assume he was being abandoned, carelessly tossed aside?  

Seungcheol doesn’t have time to mull over the implications, because Jihoon is snuggling the life out of him, purring like he’s taking part in a competition. Seungcheol even has to set his coffee mug down quickly to grapple at the counter he almost trips over, because Jihoon is twining and twisting between his legs, rubbing the entire length of his body against Seungcheol’s calves.  

Seungcheol idly traces Jihoon’s features with his eyes, seeing him in a slightly different light this morning and he grins openly as he watches Jihoon display yet another inherently feline characteristic. “Shh—Merry Christmas kitten. Damn you’re affectionate in the morning huh?” Seungcheol chuckles and Jihoon only presses closer in response, purring louder still before his stomach lets out an almighty growl, cutting his purr short.

“Hungry huh? Lucky for you—I did some unpacking this morning and look what I found.” Seungcheol states, lifting out a waffle iron into view. “Would you like waffles for breakfast kitten?”

A twitch of cat ears and a small nod. Seungcheol beams at him in response and then pulls open a drawer to start making breakfast.

…………………………………

Usually Seungcheol can mix up waffle batter in 5 minutes flat. He has a full proof recipe memorised and whips out waffles like a pro. It’s decidedly more difficult when he has a hybrid pressed up against him the entire time, vying for his attention and trying to slip in between him and the counter to watch him work. He boosts Jihoon up on the counter for a better view but that just brings its own heap of problems to the fold.

Now Jihoon wants to sit _on top_ of the waffle iron **while** it’s pressing the batter and Seungcheol spends a few minutes explaining that, although the top of waffle iron is nice and warm, it’s not a suitable place to sit and might burn his little ass off so, **no** —he can’t sit there. With a gentle hand, Seungcheol steers Jihoon to a chair at the dining table and pushes him down into it.

Jihoon asks for syrup with his waffles, then easily pours half the bottle on his plate and even tops it off with cream. _Yup_ , Seungcheol thinks he definitely has a sweet tooth. Jihoon is also a delicate eater, nibbling at his syrup soaked waffle morsel. It’s very endearing to watch, even if he manages to drop syrup all over himself in the process.

Seungcheol has finished his breakfast long before Jihoon and when he squints across the table at the hybrid he notes the distraction in his gaze, the pensive ticking of the tip of the tail. Jihoon is thinking hard about something, brows creased and lips pursed in concentration. And while an instinctive worry presses against his chest at the root of such thoughts, Seungcheol has to admit to enjoying the sight. Jihoon is cute when deep in thought. Though it’s probably best he doesn’t announce that out loud.

"Are you finished?" Seungcheol asks gently.

He also enjoys those half-guilty starts the Hybrid is so privy to. Jihoon jumps like he'd been shot, almost tipping his glass of juice over. “Sorry—I—Sorry I missed what you said.” Jihoon momentarily panics, blood rushing to his cheeks.

Seungcheol’s brow furrows in concern. “It’s okay—relax. I was just asking if you had finished eating?"

"Oh, yeah. Couldn't eat another bite. You're actually a pretty good cook, Seungcheol."

“You sound surprised.” Seungcheol laughs.

Another blush, the color spreading across the bridge of his nose this time. “No, I didn’t mean to be. I just—I’m not used to—I’m sorry.” Jihoon stammers.

Seungcheol deflects the topic to ease his fluster. “I was reading the manual earlier and—it’s amazing the things I didn’t know about hybrids. Different breeds and levels, the genetics. It’s a lot more complicated that owning a domestic pet. I don’t think a lot of people realise that.”

“Have you never owned a hybrid before?” Jihoon queries, cocking his head to one side. Seungcheol realizes the question is more than it seems. While Jihoon still smiles faintly, his eyes have darkened to seriousness, his gaze assessing.

“No, uhm—“ Seungcheol begins somewhat tentatively “I never even thought of it to be honest. I knew people did but it all sounded very surreal to me. I’ve got a busy career and I’ve focused on it most of my life.”

Lowering his eyes, Jihoon fiddles with the cuff of his sweater sleeve briefly before breaking the silence. “Oh—well, you’re really good at it.”

Seungcheol allows a slow grin to quirk his lips. “Good at what?”

Jihoon smiles, a flicker of amusement lighting his eyes for a moment “Being an owner. You’re really—nice.”

“Thanks.” Seungcheol beams, dimples flashing. “But, you don’t really know me. How can you be sure I’m not a total dick?”

Suddenly and seemingly embarrassed, Jihoon drops his eyes to his nearly empty plate. “I just—know. It’s small stuff and—I can scent certain emotions and—you smell safe.”

A tinny, almost musical clatter makes Seungcheol flinch, then blush when he realizes he's dropped his fork to the floor. He’d glossed over an entire chapter in the manual about scenting, about how certain breeds could smell certain emotions and intentions of humans. The whole concept makes him nervous and not a little scared because, if Jihoon can smell that Seungcheol is ‘Safe’, if he can smell certain emotions, than surely he can smell when Seungcheol is unbelievably aroused.

_Shitshitshitshithit—woah, don’t panic—he’ll be able to smell that!_

Swallowing hastily, Seungcheol narrowly avoids choking on that thought by gulping down the rest of his coffee before setting his mug down. He looks up at the calm, observant Hybrid sitting across the table from him, wondering what in the world he can possibly say next. And although no tint of accusation clouds Jihoon’s lucid gaze, Seungcheol can’t help but look away, feeling pinned by such unwavering attention.

“I’m glad you feel safe.” He says with a quick flash of dimples. “Anyway. The book recommended we establish a good hygiene routine and now that you’re covered in syrup—I think it’s time for a shower.”

That statement gets a surprising reaction. Jihoon, who is sipping at his orange juice, spurts it all over himself, jerking up and dropping out of his seat, then bolts out of the kitchen like a flash of light. Seungcheol stares at his vacated spot for a long moment before face palming.

**Cats + water = do not try at home.**

There was probably a chapter in the book about cat hybrids and aversions to water, he’s pretty sure he thumbed past it in the index and waved it off. Now he wishes he spent more time reading it because Jihoon was _obviously_ going to be a pain about this shower business. He clears away the table and saunters into the living room, estimating that it’s going to take a while to find Jihoon who’s flighty and nimble and probably hidden his small self in the most out of reach and out of sight space in the house.

Seungcheol steps out into the hallway and instantly revises that opinion because Jihoon **_is right there_** —in the corner, trying to hide under the lid of cardboard box. Seungcheol’s chest clenches as he tries to stop his laughter from bubbling out because Jihoon is literally THE worst hide and seek player in the world and Seungcheol can see him clear as day.

“Jihoon—I can see you under that box.” Seungcheol says tonelessly.

Jihoon yelps and bolts out from his poor hiding spot, dashing past Seungcheol and down the corridor. Seungcheol grins and follows behind slowly. It wouldn't do to move too fast. He doesn't want to scare Jihoon away.

“Oh where or where can Jihoonie be hiding?” he sing-songs, poking his head into the spare room in which he saw the hybrid run in to. It takes him even less time to spot Jihoon this time. He’s a quivering, poorly concealed mass behind one side of the parted curtains, his tail betraying him completely by waving madly in view.

“How will I ever find Jihoon in here.” Seungcheol mocks, strolling into the room. He can see Jihoon visibly tense at the sound of approaching footsteps and he pauses for dramatic effect before reaching out slowly and poking the curtain. “Found you.”

Jihoon meowls again in sorrow and the curtain swooshes as he bolts out from underneath it in a flurry, slipping past Seungcheol once more. Seungcheol can easily overtake and subdue him but he doesn’t want to press the issue and terrify Jihoon even more. Besides, he was _sorta_ enjoying this impromptu Christmas Day hide and seek session.

He follows Jihoon back down the corridor and just catches sight of his tail disappearing behind him into the study room. A frown creases Seungcheol’s face because the study was filled with precariously stacked boxes, full of heavy items and objects he hasn’t unpacked since moving in. They could topple on Jihoon and injure the small hybrid if he disturbed their positions. Turning into the room, he quickly catches sight of Jihoon wedging himself between two stacks of large boxes against the wall, shimmying into a small crevice that has formed from their placement. “Jihoon, come on out kitten I can see you.” Seungcheol tries to coerce him before he sinks in further.

“No. You can’t reach me in here.” Jihoon declares boldly, slipping out of sight.

“Jihoon—it’s dangerous in here. Lots of heavy things that could topple over, just come on out and hide somewhere else.” Seungcheol demands. Well, he means to demand it; it comes out as more of an affectionate laugh.

“No!” Jihoon snaps grumpily.

Seungcheol side steps a pile of boxes and climbs over a few to reach the stacks Jihoon has disappeared into. Peering down the gap he can see Jihoon’s small huddled form, shying away from him near the wall. He can quite easily shove the boxes down and let them fall over but the commotions would most likely petrify Jihoon further. Seungcheol makes a long-suffering kind of noise and tries to slip his shoulder in the gap to push the boxes apart slowly. The sudden shift makes Jihoon panic and he whines loud enough for Seungcheol to retreat.

“You _need_ a shower Jihoon. I don’t want to make you do something you clearly don’t want to but you’re covered in syrup…and now orange juice. I would be a real shitty owner if I just let you avoid showering for the rest of your life.”

“No.” Jihoon huffs, crouching down further into the crevice, further out of reach. “I hate showers. The water gets in my eyes and the soap gets in my eyes and my hair gets in my eyes.”

“Alright, you don’t like things getting in your eyes but maybe wear a shower cap?” Seungcheol suggests and when Jihoon shoot him a petulant glare, Seungcheol throws up his hands in exasperation.

Jihoon releases a frustrated meow; then he shivers and his face contorts in pain for a second. “It’s not just that. The spray scares me—and—it reminds me of being outside alone in the rain.”

Seungcheol steps back, stunned. The words float aimlessly through his mind, and when they finally click, bile rises in his throat “What? Who—who left you outside alone on the rain?” he asks, as gently as he knows how. He asks, because he thinks he probably should.

Jihoon doesn’t answer but his facial muscles do a complicated little dance; for a second he looks open and sincere, and then everything shut down into a cold, frozen mask, like he was wearing it to protect himself from something. He turns away from Seungcheol and slides into the gap a little more.

Seungcheol doesn't want to push the issue and maybe scare Jihoon into complete silence but he’s half afraid Jihoon will get wedged in there and injure himself. “Well, how about a bath instead?” Seungcheol offers and the possibility seemingly breaks through Jihoon’s mental deadlock because he pokes his head back out a fraction.

“I like baths.” He announces quietly.

“Yeah? You can have a bath. With bubbles and shit—the whole shebang!” Seungcheol tells him, as soothingly as he knows how; he sounds more furiously sarcastic than comforting, but some things can't be helped.

Jihoon doesn’t read it as sarcasm because he inches himself out of the crevice a tiny bit more and whispers. “I like bubbles.”

Seungcheol laughs, and grins triumphantly down at Jihoon. “Then what are we waiting for!” he says, gleefully 

Jihoon flushes--a breathtaking display, wiggling out from the crevice and climbing up Seungcheol’s frame. It’s not exactly the response Seungcheol was expecting but this is infinitely better and he’ll take this win with open arms. 

…………………………….

 

Seungcheol goes overboard with the bubbles. He knows this because the back of the bubble bar packaging says: **_Break off a small corner and dissolve in hot water for a bubbly bath experience_** and Seungcheol just throws the whole freaking bar in because Jihoon says he likes bubbles and dammit he’s going to give him bubbles! Seungcheol has visions of the bathroom overflowing with bubbles and a huge bubble tsunami rising out of the tub, but is relieved to find a more manageable amount of bubbles have formed instead, even if the ratio of bubbles to water is 5:1.

Seungcheol dips his hand into the water, assessing the temperature before twisting the tap shut and flicking the excess droplets off his hand. He thinks he has to be very, very careful. To get Jihoon to actually climb into the tub, he has to be subtle, gentle, totally non-threatening. Well, that’s his analysis of the situation anyway, which proves to be incorrect.

“Alright Jihoonie, waters ready. When you are ready you can—“ Seungcheol pauses midsentence because when he turns around to face Jihoon, his eyes catch sight of the jumper landing gracefully to the floor, next to Jihoon’s discarded shorts and socks.

 Seungcheol’s mind goes blank. He's seen the hybrids bare skin, of course, but Jihoon was now naked—officially in the nude without a hint of bashfulness. Maybe that was normal for hybrids and maybe this wasn't such a brilliant idea because now there is nothing obstructing the view of all that soft, milky skin.

_Perfection. Simply perfection._

Seungcheol can't convince his mouth to shut, but Jihoon pays him no attention as he steps around him and elegantly climbs into the tub and lowers himself into the water.

_Say something, idiot!_

Seungcheol casts his mind around wildly and blurts the first thing that pops into his mind. “Nice.”

_NOT THAT YOU IDIOT!_

And then salvation appears, though it brings its own form of stupor as Jihoon throws a damp sponge that hits Seungcheol squarely in the face and turns his back to him, gesturing for Seungcheol to wash him with a flick of his tail. Blinking, then wiping away the water from his face, Seungcheol tries to focus. "You….want me to wash you?” he mumbles.

Jihoon angles his head quickly to look at Seungcheol and nods. Seungcheol stares at the lithe figure of the hybrid, watching him wiggle his toes contently in the warm water. Jihoon’s pale skin looks smooth in the lighting, the condensation outlines every curve and hollow of Jihoon's bare chest and shoulders, the water ripples around his slim waist and over thighs where his legs are not submerged in bubbles. Seungcheol drinks in the unintentional display too long for it to be innocent before snapping himself out of his stupor. He releases a large sigh, spurring himself on before reaching over for the soap to lather up the sponge.

Jihoon’s deep, even breaths are relaxing as Seungcheol soaps his back, chest and arms with the sponge. Then it’s not so relaxing anymore when he thinks about how he’s going to scrub the part of Jihoon’s body resting _under_ the waterline. Jihoon seems to sense his turmoil and a quick, silent conversation is exchanged, their eyes lock and Jihoon takes the sponge from him to wash himself— _down there,_ while Seungcheol whistles nonchalantly to break up the tension.

Jihoon meowls in mild panic when Seungcheol unclips the shower head from the wall, but Seungcheol assures him that he is just using it to rinse Jihoon off and will keep the spray below head level. He uses the sponge to rinse off the suds on Jihoon’s back but soon abandons it in favour of using his own hands before he realises it. It’s better this way because Jihoon’s skin is like satin, so fine and smooth, broken here and there by the rougher velvet of fur and Seungcheol can get lost in the feel of that satin and the firm flesh below it.

He takes his time shampooing Jihoon’s hair, trying to minimise the water dripping down into his eyes when he rinses it through with water. When he finishes, he rests his elbow on the edge of the tub and threads his fingers into the slick golden brown hair, smoothing is away from his face. Jihoon makes a soft, satisfied sound and butts his head very gently against Seungcheol’s hand.

“All clean.” Seungcheol announces, bracing his arms on the side of the tub to push himself up. The sponge hits him in the face again, dropping down to the floor with a wet splodge. He tries to scowl, but the glittering amusement in Jihoon's dark eyes is infectious, and before he quite knows how, he is laughing. “What? Aren’t we done here? You want more bubbles?”

“No.” Jihoon’s quiet refusal begs his attention. “My tail. You still have to wash my tail.” He murmurs.

Seungcheol drops his gaze to seek out the tail. Said appendage drifts lazily through the water, the fur rippling in the current it creates and Jihoon’s reaction to his attempt at touching it yesterday firmly shouts across his memory. “I—uhh—I thought you didn’t like people touching your tail?” He says. The appendage, as if pleased to be acknowledged, lashes from side to side then lifts up behind Jihoon, sloshing through the water and thudding gently against the edge of the tub.

Something strange passes over Jihoon’s face, just for an instant, something too emotional and heavy for the moment. “I know, but I changed my mind. I want _you_ to touch it.”

“Oh—kay then.” Seungcheol smiles. He is more satisfied than he really should be, but he feels like he's won some greater victory.

Reaching out slowly, giving Jihoon plenty of time to pull away if he chooses, Seungcheol captures the furry, dark length, clasping it as gently as possible. He finds Jihoon’s tail is even softer than he’d imagined and his smile magnifies into grin as he hears the slight hitch in Jihoon’s breath.

The tail trembles in his grasp, so Seungcheol moves with the utmost care. Carefully, he pulls his hand back for a moment before reaching down and lightly caressing the tip of the tail in mute curiosity and wonder, fingertips gliding across the smooth fur. He can’t ignore the quiet meowl which spills across Jihoon’s lips a moment later.

"Am I hurting you?”

“No.” Jihoon whispers, even though his face is wooden, his voice breathless. "You’re gentle….it’s nice."

More adjusted, Seungcheol squirts some shampoo on his palm and runs his fingers through the sensitive appendage, marvelling at the feel of the golden brown strands of hair. Running his hand across and around the tail, Seungcheol curls his hand and gently pulls on the silky tail, his hand easily sliding to the tip, spreading the soap suds. He continues to repeat the process until he is satisfied with his efforts and returns to simply stroking his fingers lightly across the fur, familiarizing himself with the distinctive, silky texture of a Jihoon’s tail. There is something vaguely intimate about this gesture, the brush of wet fur against his skin feels very nice indeed. Seungcheol can’t help but grin again when he feels Jihoon shudder and watches his eyes slip shut, pleased that Jihoon is like putty in his hands.

The timer on the oven dings and resounds throughout the house and Seungcheol must let the tempting appendage go, relishing the retreating brush of slick fur against his fingers. The tail swirls once or twice under the water to soap off, then wraps around Jihoon’s bare waist, drawing Seungcheol’s attention to that area and below the waterline and he swallows thickly. Jerking his eyes away, he determinedly glances around the room to get his bearings and dispel the flare of heat in his groin. When the silence becomes uncomfortable, he finally risks a peek at Jihoon, and all his worry melts away.

Jihoon sits breathless, his head slightly tilted back, eyes closed, the fan of dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks. A slight flush dusts across his cheeks and nose, which can be from the temperature of the water but Seungcheol's gaze is once again snared.

The hybrid trembles faintly, then blinks his eyes open, running his tongue over his lower lip. Seungcheol’s groin tightens almost painfully, a vague memory of Jihoon’s taste making his mouth cramp. He is tempted to lean forward and take another taste, but Jihoon’s eyes clear before he can make a move.

"I--uh, sorry," Jihoon stutters, his blush deepening. "I just zoned out there for a second." He frowns, obviously distracted.

Seungcheol smiles, hoisting himself up from the edge of the tub and pulling a large towel from the rack. “I’ve got to check the oven—can you finish up by yourself?” he asks.

Jihoon nods and takes the towel from his hand.

……………………….

After Christmas dinner, which Jihoon decides is his new favourite meal, a companionable silence falls between them. Seungcheol sinks down into the over-stuffed cushions with his six pack of larger and props his feet on the coffee table, settling in to enjoy a movie. Jihoon watches him from the kitchen doorway tentatively, as if he’s not sure he should come closer and join him or wait for permission.

Seungcheol laughs and pats the space next to him on the couch, and he is relieved to see Jihoon relax and move forward, unfolding himself and sitting more comfortably on the couch, mimicking Seungcheol’s relaxed pose.

As soon as Jihoon is in arms reach of him however, the smell hits him.

_Fuck, Jihoon’s scent should be illegal._

Seungcheol breathes it in, trying to do so unobtrusively and Jihoon’s scent remains as intoxicating as it had been the first time he noticed it, when he buried his nose in Jihoon’s hair last night and inhaled him. A quick glance at his wrist watch and he estimates that it’s around the same time as when he first noticed it yesterday too. Is it an evening thing? Do they release a scent at night that draws prey in or, in Seungcheol’s case, fucking predators?

Shaking off such thoughts, he sprawls on the couch, feeling full and lazy and a bit sleepy. He props one foot on the coffee table and leans back into the cushions, cradling his beer on his chest. A quick glance to the side reveals Jihoon curling up into a ball, his eyelids already at half-mast. Seungcheol grins and looks back at the TV screen. He could get used to this, to having Jihoon around. He imagines how nice it would be to come home to Jihoon after a shitty long ass day at work. Jihoon greeting him at the door, waving his tail in excitement, purring, rubbing up against him, rolling over on to his back and spreading his—

**_WHAT THE FUCK!_ **

"Seungcheol?" Jihoon nudges him gently.

"Mmm?"

“Are you going to put the movie on?” Jihoon asks, flicking his ears.

_Sure, right after I stop being a fucking pervert._

Seungcheol swallows nervously and clears his throat. “Yeah, sure—just thinking about what to watch.”

He flips through the channels distractedly and settles for watching Elf, which has been playing non-stop every weekend since November and he’s fucking sick of it, but it’s the first movie he finds and he can’t think straight at the moment. Not when he is surrounded by that perfect scent, by sweet warmth. It’s amazing he can still string sentences together when he is drowning in the smell of Jihoon's skin, in his soft breaths.

Giving in a little to temptation, Seungcheol slides his hands up and down Jihoon's arm, smiling when the hybrid scoots even closer, pressing against him, shoulder to shoulder. Seungcheol takes the moment to simply enjoy the Hybrids body pressed so snugly against his own. He slides his arm behind Jihoon to stroke a hand along his back when he notices Jihoon’s soft, dark tail twitching back and forth, its tip gliding over the top of his thigh. The gentle caress draws Seungcheol’s gaze down towards the furry appendage.

Although a blatant invitation, he refrains from touching Jihoon’s tail without specific permission. Besides, this was entirely too much intimacy this early on and touching it will likely only confuse the issue.

Wanting more of Jihoon’s heat, he slips an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. Jihoon comes willingly enough, draping himself over Seungcheol's lap, slipping over his thigh and settling between his legs. The small hybrid squirms until he is comfortably seated, then arches up against Seungcheol, nuzzling his head under Seungcheol’s jaw and rolling his hips in Seungcheol’s lap. It’s a re-run of the night before except Seungcheol is going to keep it clean this time—no heavy petting just— _regular petting._

Reaching down, Seungcheol lightly brushes his lips against Jihoon’s temple in a reassuring kiss. Heeding his own advice, he keeps his touch gentle and unobtrusive, staying to innocent areas until Jihoon relaxes more, burrows more. The effort it takes to do so is monumental but the pleasure that breaks over Jihoon's face is worth it; the small satisfied sighs that slip out of his mouth are worth it.

Seungcheol strokes and pets as much of that perfect, satin skin as he can reach, stopping occasionally to scratch between Jihoon’s ears and rub at the base of his neck, always returning to place a soft kiss at Jihoon’s temple when he meowls.

A brush of fur against his shoulder draws a growl from Seungcheol chest, and since when does he growl? He doesn’t even have the anatomy to vocalize a growl, does he? Jihoon shudders, then flicks his tail against Seungcheol's cheek, brushing the fur over his cheekbone and down his jaw.

Seungcheol tilts his head towards the teasing appendage to sniff the fragrant scent of Hybrid fur, catching a careful handful of tail and bringing it to his nose. Smiling, Seungcheol catches the end of the appendage and brings it to his lips, dropping a chaste kiss on the tip. Jihoon shivers, the fur on his tail fluffing out, his ears quivering on his head, so Seungcheol does it again, adding a little nip.

Smiling faintly, Jihoon leans into the caress, silently inviting it again, purring when the gesture is repeated. Seungcheol inhales the delicious scent of fur and spice, then pulls Jihoon close again, shifting him a little higher on his lap. He kisses the tip of the tail again, distantly amazed to be able to do so.

He grows more and more comfortable with the hybrids differences from what he is used to, deciding he doesn't care what is different, so long as it is Jihoon. Nothing could ever be wrong about Jihoon, so long as he kept purring, kept making those addictive cries, kept arching against him, kneading against his chest and stroking his tail in between Seungcheol’s—

"Chheooolll...." Jihoon moans, tipping his head back.

Seungcheol gapes for a long moment, frozen as the tip of Jihoon’s tail strokes between his thighs and flicks over his clothed dick— _again._

_Oh, God...._

Oh fuck!

"See-ungc-cheolll..." Jihoon’s purr invades the name, turning the very syllables sensuous, almost dangerous. Jihoon’s panting lightly now, rolling his hips in quick jerky motions and Seungcheol can see where this is going to go. He freezes, unable to even blink. Jihoon’s tail is making him hard, fast.

Seungcheol struggles with temptation, but he will not lose control. He won't push himself on Jihoon, no matter how much Jihoon seems to want him, no matter how much he enjoys the press of that small body and the stir of arousal against his thigh. Another short press of lips on Jihoon’s temple, and he settles Jihoon back against the cushions at his side, keeping his eyes focused on the hybrid to judge his response.

Wide—very wide—dark eyes blink in the flickering, low light of the TV. After a long, quiet moment, Jihoon frowns. Something tells him that Jihoon’s isn't quite so thrilled with the sudden cease in activities, if this bristling of his tail and the set of his ears is anything to go by. So he plays it cool, leans back in his seat, grabs the remote and starts flicking through the channels.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Jihoon throw a mini tantrum, tail slashing back and forth, back arching in and he can hear the scrape of drawn claws against the sofa cushions. When he doesn’t turn his attention to Jihoon, Jihoon makes it damn well near impossible to ignore him by leaping forward and bouncing back into his lap once more.

He wiggles in Seungcheol’s lap and starts grinding his hips down again, looking right at Seungcheol, his eyes big and bright and bordering on hypnotic, nearly breaking Seungcheol's resolve. Sitting up a little, Seungcheol shoves aside most of his lingering desire to think rationally. He can very easily let this happen but there are too many undetermined factors. He hasn’t read enough about this, he needs to focus.

"Stop." Seungcheol’s dark eyes roil with both want and uncertainty, but his voice is firm and clear. "Bad—bad kitty. Stop now.” he corrects with a momentary scowl.

Jihoon’s face falls instantly, his eyes shutter briefly and Seungcheol feels a moment's twinge of guilt. Jihoon stares at him for a small eternity with dark eyes glittering with emotion so rich, Seungcheol has no clue what thoughts are churning behind that black, inscrutable gaze. "But, I thought-" A pause, then a very soft, "I’m sorry."

 Reluctantly, the Hybrid shuffles out of his lap, perching on the far end of the couch and drawing up his knees. His entire posture screams vulnerability and even fear, and Seungcheol wants to kick himself for touching Jihoon earlier. How could he have been so careless? Hadn't he just reiterated his promise to keep things innocent?

Seungcheol turns his attention back to the movie. The silence that falls between them isn't completely uncomfortable, but Seungcheol finds himself shifting restlessly, just the same. Jihoon on the other hand, just sits there, doing nothing, not even fidgeting in his seat. It’s as if he was frozen in place, stiff and afraid to move. The gesture, or lack thereof is extremely distracting and Seungcheol finds himself studying Jihoon, aching to reach for the manual to look for clues to this behavior.

Soon the lack of sleep from the night before has Seungcheol calling it an early night. Jihoon nods in agreement, which Seungcheol takes as a good sign, but Jihoon still won't look at him, either. He simply stands and fidgets while Seungcheol pushes wearily off the couch, then meekly follows where Seungcheol leads.

As they walk down the corridor and pass the guest room, Seungcheol pauses, turning around to face Jihoon. “Uhm—do you wanna sleep in the guest room tonight or—“ He leaves it open for interpretation.

“Okay.” Jihoon mumbles, still not making eye contact with him. “Goodnight.” He whispers, padding quietly into the guest room. Seungcheol sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, he’s never wanted to punch himself in the face so hard before.

……………………………………

Jihoon chose the guest room, and, in a way, Seungcheol is glad for it. At least he doesn’t have to lie awake at night in fear that his body will betray him by touching Jihoon if he succumbs to sleep. He'd had such a small taste of Jihoon last night, now it seems so long ago and he wants more.

True, he desires the hybrid, and maybe Jihoon desires him back but it’s new and very unfamiliar territory. Seungcheol has never walked away from a challenge in his life, and he had no intention of totally giving up on something he wants this badly, but his own desires have to take a backseat when there are so many unanswered question left hanging in the air. A flash of Jihoon’s blank, staring eyes and pale, expressionless face flashes through his mind, and Seungcheol can't conceal a cringe. He realises he could have handled that better, now Jihoon was shying away from him.

He doesn’t manage to drift off however, despite the familiarity of the empty bed. He tosses and turns fitful and frustrated and when he finally can’t take it anymore, he gets up to make himself a drink he hopes will lull him to sleep. He almost trips up in his haste to exit the bedroom, foot nudging on something at the doorway but he catches himself against the wall and turns back mid stumble upon hearing a shrill, mewling yelp.

Jihoon is curled up against the bottom of the door frame, eyes wide and anxious. When Seungcheol steps forward to help him, he shies away like a wounded cat. “Oh shit baby did I step on you?” Seungcheol asks, reaching down carefully to soothe the hybrid coiling in on himself. Jihoon is a little shaky when he finally stands up but a quick pat down his sides, chest and back assure Seungcheol that he's not grievously injured. But something is off about the set of Jihoon's ears, the curve of his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to hurt you Jihoonie I’m sorry. What—what were you doing out here?”

“Nothing.” Jihoon mumbles, tail quivering out behind him.

Seungcheol glances around him, then puts two and two together. “Where you sleeping at the door to my room?” he asks softly.

Jihoon doesn’t answer him, but he blushes and a frown creases the skin between his eyebrows. Seungcheol lifts a finger to trace and hopefully soothe that line, feeling his stomach quiver with a surge of emotion, a mixture of feelings he can't properly define.

“Aww, kitten, come here.” Seungcheol murmurs, sweeping Jihoon up into his arms and cradling him close. His earlier thirst is quenched as soon as Jihoon slips his arms around his neck and meows quietly into his shoulder. Seungcheol retreats into his room with Jihoon, settling him down onto the bed and curving in behind him. He slips a hand around Jihoon’s waist before pressing a haphazard kiss into his hair.

Jihoon lets out a drowsy purr of approval and twists back to nuzzle Seungcheol languidly, rubbing up against his stubble-rough jaw and folding his tail over Seungcheol’s hip as they drift off to sleep.

……………………..

It’s not until the 27th of December that Seungcheol gets the opportunity to interact with other humans. It’s midday and he’s packing away groceries from his online shopping order when the doorbell rings. When Seungcheol pulls the door open, he’s greeted by the fumbling figure of a man in a brown delivery uniform shifting anxiously from foot to foot. His name badge is skewed and his hair is ruffled and his eyes are wide and manic.

“Hi?”

“Hi—Uhm. Are you 7 Cutlar Road?” The man asks.

Seungcheol raises an eye ridge, cocking his head.  “That’s not the name my parents gave me, but who knows what people call me behind my back—but that is my address if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah—sorry, I just know people by addresses. I’m not very good with names,“ the man suddenly leans in conspiratorially. “Or addresses either it turns out.” He laughs, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

Seungcheol treats him to a slow, strained grin. "Not that I’m not enjoying this awkwardness that you’re radiating on my doorstep,” He tilts his head to read the name on the badge. “—Jun—but, can I help you?”

Jun laughs self-consciously. “Oh—god, yes sorry. It’s been a hectic few days, my brain is all over the place. Uhm—I kinda delivered something here on Christmas Eve, that should have been delivered to 7 Cutlar _Close_ instead _!”_

The slight sliver of normalcy he's built with Jihoon slips right out of his hands at hearing those words, and Seungcheol feels himself freeze. “Oh?” His tone inflects surprise, even though he knows exactly what Jun is talking about.

“Yeah, it was a parcel—yay big. Had a hybrid inside?" Jun bumbles.

Seungcheol sighs gustily. “Yeah—I know. He’s in the living room.”

“Oh—thank god!” Jun breathes a sigh of relief. “I was worried he’s been poached off your doorstep.”

“No, he’s safe.” Seungcheol replies shortly, an edge to his voice that he hopes expresses that this was the end of the discussion.

“Ok, great.” Jun says, looking expectantly at Seungcheol.

“Awesome. Bye then.” Seungcheol ends dismissively, moving to shut the door.

“Woah—hey-hey—woah!” Jun tuts, sticking his foot in the door. “I need him back. I delivered him to the wrong address and he was meant to be a surprise Christmas present for some guy’s fiancé.”

Seungcheol groans in frustration. “Look dude. I can’t be held responsible for your fuck ups. So how about—I just keep him?”

Jun gasps incredulously. “No—dude. He doesn’t belong to you.”

“How about, he _does_ belong to me—and you earn yourself a huge fucking tip?” Seungcheol offers wryly, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet and waving it suggestively.

Jun meets his gaze steadily, as if insulted by the very notion of a bribe. “Listen, unless you’re planning on tipping me $20,000 dollars to cover his cost, I’m going to have to insist on taking him to his rightful owners.”

“I’ll give you 200 dollars.” Seungcheol says, his voice flat

“Dude!” Jun huffs, and the scowl that has been threatening breaks over his face.

Seungcheol wants to keep his face from displaying his dismay, but he cannot help himself at the thought of handing Jihoon over. “But—I wanna keep him.” He whines childishly.

Jun blinks in surprise. “Well then, buy one—I have a brochure you can look at.”

“ **No** -I don’t want just any random hybrid—I want him.” Seungcheol counters quickly.

Jun offers him a wan smile. _“Dude.”_

“Stop calling me that you jackass!” Seungcheol lashes out.

“Dude—dude,” Jun placates before pausing for a moment, a knowing smile playing around his lips before he infects sympathy in his tone. “ _dude_ , listen to yourself.”

Seungcheol harrumphs and glances away. “Yeah—you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I got used to having him around. Anyway, come in, he’s in the living room.” He steps back and holds the door open for Jun, leading him into the hallway.

“Jihoonie.” Seungcheol calls out as he enters the living room, getting Jihoon’s attention.

The hybrid unfurls from the blanket he is napping in, his graceful feline spine arching against the cushions and he meows contently before blinking up blearily at Seungcheol. Jun approaches him thoughtlessly, pulling out a leash and bends down to clip it to his collar. He gets a bite on the hand for his effort and Jihoon hisses, spine arching and tail bristling stiffly behind him as he lashes out at the stranger.Jun jumps back in shock. “Woah—he does not like me.” He says, punctuating it with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

Seungcheol fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah—can you not just try and collar him without an explanation, let me talk to him first. I just need to explain this to him and then you can take him back.” Seungcheol growls, holding out a palm to steady Jihoon and waving for Jun to give them some privacy.

Jun shrugs his shoulders but agrees, stepping back into the hallway. Seungcheol takes a seat next to Jihoon on the couch, but is quickly forced to sit back fully to accommodate Jihoon, who rushes to climb onto his lap, tucking up against Seungcheol’s chest and sinking his fists into the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Easy Jihoonie— _easy kitten_.” Seungcheol soothes, rubbing a palm down the hybrids sides to calm him. Jihoon's waist is still slender beneath his hands, despite the bulky sweater of Seungcheol’s he’s wearing.

“Who is that man?—I don’t like him.” Jihoon hisses.

Seungcheol takes a deep, slow breath before speaking again. “That idiot is a—he’s a delivery driver who left you at my door the other day. He’s here to take you—to your real owners.”

Jihoon jerks back, his eyes wide. He shifts a little but makes no move to pull away. Seungcheol watches as the explanation sinks in, as Jihoon first flushes with irritation, then frowns in further, frustrated confusion, his tail lashing wildly behind him, a tangible sign of his internal conflict. "You—you’re not—? " Jihoon pauses, raking a hand through his hair. His tail lashes angrily behind him, a blur of brown fur. Seungcheol sits up farther until Jihoon sits back on his heels, still between Seungcheol’s legs but no longer pressing against him. "You’re not my owner?"

A burning knot blocks Seungcheol’s throat. “No—the delivery driver made a mistake with the address and left you here by accident.” Seungcheol’s voice is low, almost muted. “The Pledis Pets offices were closed over the Christmas period so I couldn’t get a hold of anyone.” he says lightly, his hands caressing Jihoon's back, trying to soothe the small hybrid.

But this proves too much for Jihoon, and he half turns away, closing his eyes as he shakes his head in denial. Seungcheol sighs and takes Jihoon's chin in a firm grip, bringing those confused eyes back to his own.

“Jihoonie-“ he begins to say.

"So, I have to leave you?" Jihoon’s voice comes out as a cross between a sob and a laugh but Seungcheol doesn't mistake the tightly controlled hurt in that tone and he barely manages to hide his flinch.

"I don’t own you, I didn’t buy you--" He feels himself flush and suddenly he has a hard time meeting Jihoon’s eyes. He shakes his head, shifting to drop his forehead into his palms, muffling his voice even further. "I just didn’t want to leave you out there in the cold—I really didn’t have a choice.”

Frowning as he considers, Jihoon again falls silent.

“I’m sorry Jihoon.” Seungcheol murmurs, rubbing Jihoon’s ears. “But I’m sure your real owners will be—amazing people and if they’re not you can just—run away. Damn, I suck at comforting people, I’m sorry I should have told you sooner but you got upset when I mentioned ringing Pledis Pets before and I guess I was foolish to think that nobody would try looking for you.” He mumbles.

“It’s okay. You were just—being nice.” Jihoon’s expression seems to match his voice as his eyes glisten, and an odd, uncertain smile graces his face. Seungcheol smiles back, care and affection flowing from his gaze like an unyieldable river.

Jihoon's tail brushes his cheek again, and Seungcheol suddenly realizes the gesture seems to bring the Hybrid a small measure of comfort, as if Jihoon feels better when he’s soothing him too. “Thank you Seungcheol. I’ll –I’ll go now.” He murmurs, climbing out of Seungcheol lap slowly.

Seungcheol watches him pad out of the living room to join Jun in the hallway, his tail dragging behind him. This time he doesn’t resist when Jun clips the leash in place and tugs him out to the van, only turning around to face Seungcheol as Jun fumbles with the door handle to the van. Jihoon looks at him with such hope in his eyes for a second that it warms Seungcheol’s heart; then his expression shifts to something lost and horrible and Seungcheol feels something stutter and break inside his chest, something that has been keeping him alive.

Jihoon waves goodbye to him meekly as he climbs in to the back of the van and Seungcheol stares blankly out his front door for a long time after the van drives off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Hello darkness my old friend....lol  
> 2) Are there...rules about hybrid dynamics? I assume not because it's all made up. So I just...made up some of my own stuff too!  
> 3) My friends cat, likes to sit on warm things. Got his tail nearly singed on the toaster! Frequently found sitting on the internet modem :D Because it's warm!  
> 4) I love kitten Jihoon but.....I'm actually allergic to cats! LOLOL. So I can never own a kitten Jihoon :(  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy reading :)


	3. Research?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress?

The first day passes in a blur. Seungcheol throws himself into work, re-arranging his furniture, unpacking some more boxes and scheduling a few meetings with clients for the following day.

When his traitorous mind still whispers memories of Jihoon to him, he digs the remote for the TV out from behind a cushion, settles on a _Jason Statham_  film, something that won't require a lot of thought, and tries to drown his desires with three beers in quick succession.

It doesn’t work. He still finds himself glancing off to the side subconsciously, expecting Jihoon to be sitting there, all wrapped up and soft and cute. Seungcheol's sure it will be easier when he returns to work tomorrow, he’s looking forward to it actually. Anything to fill those blank spaces in his head with thoughts of mergers and acquisitions instead of hopeless memories of small cat hybrids that warmed his lap once upon a time.

_Why am I like torturing myself like this?_

Seungcheol find himself at loose ends. At first he thought it was simply the renewed loneliness; the house was too quiet and he missed the company. But it wasn't that.

Maybe he was just getting older, but Seungcheol feels more circumspect these days, more aware of how life throws you curves when you least expect them. He thinks maybe that having Jihoon around has made him itch for something more, something for himself. Someone to make a home and a life with. Someone who knows him and likes him anyway. Someone he can care for. There's really only one person on that very short list and he's currently living a few blocks away at 7 Cutlar Close.

He should never have let Jihoon leave.

Seungcheol closes his eyes and tips his head back against the head rest. He savours the lingering sweetness of Jihoon's taste on his tongue and the faint, welcome memory of that beautifully pale, pliant and lean body against his own. Finally, as he hefts himself wearily off the couch and heads for his bed, he tentatively allows himself to think of the future with more hope, of what he'll do tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

…………………………………

Seungcheol is usually a pleasant person at work, he’s so pleasant in fact his secretary brings him a coffee and a blueberry muffin every morning without fail. It’s become a tradition they don’t speak of and he usually pays her back one way or another.

She’s the first person to recognize that something is off and asks him as much. “Is everything ok? You seem—distracted. Looks like you need one of those hugs that slowly turns into sex.”

He has to remind himself to laugh at what he _hopes_ is a joke and reassure her. Friendliness has always come easy to him, and now he can barely even muster up a proper smile. “Yeah I’m fine, it’s just been a long day.”

“It’s 11 am!” She laughs in disbelief.

“It is?” His eyebrows jump as he glances at his watch. “Ugghh—I guess it’s just post holiday blues.”

Seungcheol isn’t exactly dying to explain himself. Unfortunately, he doesn’t think he can be transparent about why his attitude is off-kilter. Everyone at work expects him to just be Seungcheol--to instantly get over whatever bothers him and to grin and scratch his head and invite everyone out for a round of drinks later. He just can't do it.

Those short few unforgettable moments have opened his eyes in so many ways.

Jihoon has been out of his sight for a mere 48 hours and already he plagues Seungcheol’s dreams, that shy smile is permanently seared on the inside of his eyelids. Seungcheol thinks he is coping pretty damn well when he manages to not remember the hybrid for a few minutes. It was a success he would have to measure in hours and seconds, not days and weeks.

When work brings with it little reprieve, Seungcheol finds himself scanning the first few page of an online hybrid catalogue with a careless eye, in between phone calls.

 ** _Mail order hybrids_** —it just feels and sounds all wrong. He feels guilty just saying it, but there it is. He has to use a proxy site to access the page, which makes him feel a little creepy but he can’t resist scanning through the site out of curiosity.

Anyone can buy a hybrid it seems, as long as they had the cash and room to spare. His head spins as he takes in the immense possibilities. Cats, dogs, rabbits, chinchillas, reptiles— _reptiles?_ He shudders visibly at the thought.

According to the price list, Jihoon retailed cheaper than many of the breeds on offer, but then again he was ‘Preowned’. Seungcheol has never been a creature of habit. He knows what he prefers, but most of the time he’s willing to roll with the punches. The more he browses however, the more he realises; other hybrids, new or not, can't measure up to Jihoon. They pale in comparison to his slight elegance. He realises it’s not even the concept of a hybrid that appeals to him, it’s simply Jihoon.

He steps out for lunch because he can use the distraction, and another cup of coffee. He knows the caffeine is just going to make him even more irritable, but he feels so abruptly exhausted that it’s the only way he can think of to self-medicate.

As he crosses the road his attention if drawn to a shop window displaying Hybrid accessories. There’s a display in the centre showcasing luxury collars and one in particular catches his eye. It’s simple, sleek and elegant. A thin strip of black leather with a silk inner lining and a small diamond hanging from the centre. He can’t help but think how the black would contrast beautifully on Jihoon’s milky skin. How the feel of the silk would compliment Jihoon’s satin softness.

He gives up on lunch all together. Logic takes a momentary backseat while desire takes the wheel when he walks into a hardware store and buys: bolt cutters, a hacksaw, a length of rope and a blow torch. The shop assistant gives him a suspicious look when he asks where the keep their balaclavas but he manages to laugh it off as a poorly timed joke.

Then makes his way back to his office with a spring in his step and a plan brewing in his mind.

…………………….

Seungcheol pulls up into his driveway that evening, very aware that there is a man standing at his front door, arms crossed over his chest, staring through his windscreen determinedly at him. He’s got shoulder length black hair, maybe a hair shorter than Seungcheol and a handful of years younger, dressed in a smart brown overcoat and two-toned shoes.

“7 Cutlar Road?” The man asks, coolly arching an eyebrow when Seungcheol steps out of the car.

Seungcheol sighs. “That’s me. Look, if this is about joining the neighbourhood watch, I told that old lady I wasn’t interested. I don’t **care** how many baskets of mini muffins she sends me—I don’t give a shit.”

“Charming.” he says mildly, looking at Seungcheol with a gaze far sharper than his voice. “No, I’m not here about the neighbourhood watch. Although, I am pleased that Mrs Chan is bothering other people about joining. I was beginning to think she had it out for us.” The man laughs.

Seungcheol forces a smile, one of many he has had to force today. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be snappy. I’ve had a rough couple of days. How can I help you?”

“Quite alright. My names Jeonghan—I live at 7 Cutlar Close,” Jeonghan pauses, and, though he is fairly sure he is being baited, Seungcheol can't help looking up and exposing his expression.

_What the fuck?_

Seungcheol’s stomach twists into a quivering ball, hand clenching tight around his house keys, but he says nothing.

A faint grin. "I _think_ you know why I’m here." Jeonghan says. His voice is harsh, reflecting an anxiety that has Seungcheol’s muscles jumping with all the usual tension of a fight, and something in his heart lurches with a pain close to fear.

_What if something is wrong with Jihoon? What is he’s injured?_

"Is this about Jihoon—is he okay? How’s he settling in?" Seungcheol blurts out and the elephant in the room dies a quick death.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, “I see you’re as keen on him as he is on you.” He snickers. Seungcheol studies the man for a moment, looking for mockery under the amusement. He doesn't sense any malice in the words, though, so he relaxes again.

Jeonghan sighs. “He’s fine—well, we _thought_ he was fine. We _thought_ he was settling in. When he arrived yesterday he was a little quiet, a little distracted which is to be expected. But we introduced ourselves and gave him a tour of the house, showed him his room and all the pretty clothes and toys we’d bought for him. He seemed happy. We had dinner and he only scratched us a handful of times when we tried to pet him.”

“He scratched you?” Seungcheol repeats, trying not to sound spitefully glad.

Jeonghan bristles in irritation. “Well— _yeah._ That’s normal though. Cat Hybrids aren’t exactly the most affectionate right away. It takes time to earn their trust. They’re very particular about who pets them, you have to coax them—wait,” Jeonghan pauses, eyes narrowing dangerously at Seungcheol. “He let you pet him, didn’t he?”

“Straight off the bat, asked me to do it too. Purred for Korea and everything.” Seungcheol shares smugly. He takes perverse amusement in Jeonghan’s dropped jaw and wide-eyed shock. He can't think of the last time he's garnered that reaction and enjoyed it. Maybe never.

Jeonghan’s brows knit into a scowl, and Seungcheol has to fight not to smile. “Alright dick, don’t be smug about it.” he spits.

So, _maybe_ he was being smug. Seungcheol shrugs affably. He won't apologize, though he admits to himself that taking his smart-assed side out on Jeonghan is just misdirecting his anger. “What about his tail, did he let you near that?” He asks, trying to sound matter-of-fact and not like a conceited prick.

“Wh-what! Don’t be crazy! I’m in a happy and committed relationship.” Jeonghan grimaces in distaste and suddenly everything sprouts several more twists and turns than Seungcheol was expecting.

Blinking, Seungcheol tries to focus. “Hold on—what are you saying. The tail is—like, a sexual thing?” he asks calmly, though the timbre of his voice is screaming  _HOLY SHIT_.

“It’s an erogenous zone for certain breeds, yes. Not quite a sex organ but you don’t touch it unless you intend for things to—ya know— _get colourful.”_

“Ah, I see,” Seungcheol says around a smile, understanding dawning. A shiver of interest works its way leisurely down his spine at this new information, and he pauses, considering. It makes him feel strangely good. Jihoon had trusted him enough to request petting almost immediately. He'd also trusted him with his tail, of which he was obviously very protective and which was clearly an intimate area.

Jeonghan continues. “We’re definitely are not interested in that! In fact we were planning on getting him treatments to supress his sexual activity all together.”

Seungcheol's grin fades slightly, his expression turning serious. “So, basically you were gonna neuter him.” he snaps.

“We paid for him, he’s our property. We have the right to do anything we like.” Jeonghan says, a grin plastered across his features even though he was internally sidestepping the actual question.

Feeling a little betrayed and more than a little set up, Seungcheol clenches his jaw. "Is there a point, Jeonghan? Did you just come here to gloat? Rub it in my face about how fucking lucky you are with your pretty little hybrid, who snuggles up to you at night and fits perfectly in your lap. Are you just here to remind how nice it is to have him?"

“I knew it!” Jeonghan yells in exasperation. “I knew he was rejecting us because of you. You only had him for three days and he’s bonded with you already. I don’t know how you did it—you sly bastard.” Jeonghan snipes him, a critical look in his eyes.

Luckily, Seungcheol is too astonished to take offense at that slight, though he might remember to do so later. “What— _bonded?_ He rejected you? What the fuck are you talking about?” Seungcheol grunts, brow creasing with confusion.

“I don’t know. He suddenly turned on us. Just—after dinner we wanted him to try his new clothes. We’d spent a fortune on designer hybrid clothing and wanted him to appreciate them—when we tried to take that fucking jumper away from him— _your fucking jumper_ —that’s when he started crying.”

Seungcheol froze, feeling all the life and vitality drain out of him. “What? He cried?”

Jeonghan huffs in annoyance. “Cried? He’s crying— _he’s still at it_. Crying and meowing and whimpering _Cheol, cheol.”_

Hope slices through him almost painfully. “That’s my name!”

“Yeah—we figured that out—genius.” Jeonghan snaps. “Anyway, we tried to get him to calm down and we even called Pledis Pets but because he was discounted they refuse to take him back. They just suggested we sedate him. Joshua didn’t want to do that but now he’s hidden himself under the bed and he won’t stop meowing. It’s driving us crazy!”

Seungcheol listens, but isn’t really paying attention to him. His Plan B is already circling through his head; if they won’t agree to handing Jihoon over—he has no choice but to kidnap him now. His health and wellbeing was at risk for fucks sake.

Possessiveness crashes over him in a wave, bringing a feral growl from his chest. “I—want—to—see--him.” Seungcheol says through gritted teeth, fists curling into Jeonghan’s collar before he realises it. —and he's just about to move his grip to the guys neck when Jeonghan utters that magical sentence.

“Calm down—I was hoping you’d consider buying him off us.”

………………………………

The drive to Jeonghan’s house is short—but then again he’s speeding. Jeonghan is attempting to give him directions and its completely unnecessary, because Seungcheol has already mapped out the location of the house online and vaguely drawn up a kidnapping plot during his lunch hour at work. Nevertheless, he nods and pretends to be thankful for the directions, and drives in silence, fingertips numb on the steering wheel.

“Hannie!” Joshua shouts, swinging the door open before Jeonghan has a chance to even ring the bell. The door slams back against the wall, rattling the hinges. “Thank god you’re here! Who’s this?” He asks, treating Seungcheol to a slow once over.

“This, is the piece of work our hybrid has bonded to.” he sneers, gesturing to Seungcheol. But Seungcheol grins, ignoring the ferocity behind the statement. 

Shrugging, Seungcheol manages an innocent look. "It’s not like I bribed him or anything, maybe he just knows he’d be happier with me. Hybrids sense things you know?" he offers boastfully.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and jerks his head towards Seungcheol. "What did I tell you? Piece of work—skilfully corrupting our hybrid and turning him against us." Strangely enough, the dubious praise warms Seungcheol’s heart, and he finds himself grinning as he follows Jeonghan into the house.

“Don’t take it personally,” Joshua reassures, sliding Seungcheol an amused look “Hannie is stingy with compliments, I’ve long since learned to recognize and appreciate that if he hasn’t called the police on somebody, he likes them.”

“Why is it so quiet?” Jeonghan asks, amazed at the almost silence of the house.

“Oh—well—he’s cried himself hoarse.” Joshua sighs. “I thought he’d fallen asleep when things got quiet and I ventured in there, but he’s still skittish as fuck and his voice is broken—”

Seungcheol feels a swell of anger born out of worry. “I want to see him.” he demands, his blood running cold. Joshua leads them down the corridor and as they approach the door, Seungcheol can hear the low, throaty yowls filtering through the wood, underlain with a hint of misery and hurt.

He swings the door open and stops dead, hands hanging limply at his side. Suddenly, everything is in high-definition, sensations zinging down his spine like electric shocks as small, whimpering cries filter out from underneath the bed and cripple his senses. Something primal is triggered in his brain and his instincts take over.

Dropping to the floor, he peers under the bed and can just make out Jihoon’s huddled form underneath, hugging the wall. He reaches out to grasp him but Jihoon jerks away with a hiss, his wide, terror-filled eyes meeting Seungcheol’s for one heartbreaking second before he shuffles out of reach.

Not wasting another minute, Seungcheol jumps back on to his feet and tosses the mattress to one side. Jihoon meowls brokenly as his hiding spot is revealed and he crawls to the corner, grabbing a pillow to shield himself. Seungcheol’s mental sense of Jihoon’s state of mind nearly screams with fear, and the hybrids wan body flinches, a soft whimper escaping the swollen lips.

Seungcheol pulls up the loose planks of the bed frame to reach him, and when he’s created enough space between the slats he steps over the frame to get a better look at the small hybrid. Jihoon is cowering in the corner, still dressed in Seungcheol’s sweater, one sleeve stretched too long where they had obviously tried to take it off him by force.

When Seungcheol pulls the pillow away, Jihoon’s meowls pick up a notch in volume and he presses his fists into his eyes, delicate face scrunching up in a sob.

The fading sunlight slants through the windows, catching in Jihoon's hair and shimmering on the spent trails of tears on his cheeks. He looks tiny and broken, trembling on the floor and Seungcheol’s stomach cramps painfully at the sight. Whimpers and choked-back sobs escape the hybrids throat as he tries to curl into a ball.

Seungcheol steps forward, wanting to help, to soothe, to pull Jihoon’s body into his arms and...and  _protect_  him. He crouches down in front of the weeping, choking Hybrid and lays a gentle hand on one shaking shoulder. “Go-away!” Jihoon squeals, pawing at Seungcheol’s hand.

Despite his instinctive need to comfort the hybrid, Seungcheol throws his hands up to show he is harmless, his heart aching at the agony in those tear-glistened eyes.

Seungcheol bites his lip and stares down at the frightened bundle, listening to his fretful whimpers as he cowers pathetically, shielding his tear stricken face behind a sweater paw. Seungcheol tries again, his voice as low and soothing as he can make it, his hands still upraised in full view. “Kitten, hey it’s me. Don’t cry.” He murmurs.

Seungcheol’s voice must crack through Jihoon’s fragile shell because his sobbing ceases instantly. Encouraged, Seungcheol reaches over again and pats Jihoon’s back gently. “Jihoonie, hey—shhhh. It’s okay kitten.” He coaxes, delighted when Jihoon appears to settle further, turning towards the sound of his voice.

"Chh--" Jihoon stops, seemingly unable to continue as little hiccuping sobs break into his speech. Seungcheol leans in closer, waits, makes no move to approach him further, his heart thudding. After a monumental struggle, Jihoon continues, his voice strained to the breaking point. "Seung-cheol?”

Seungcheol sits forward, reaching out and placing a hand on Jihoon’s forearm, squeezing gently until the kitten’s eyes raise to meet his. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Wide, wet, unblinking eyes stare right through him. It’s plain that Jihoon doesn’t believe that it’s him, that he didn’t actually expect Seungcheol to come for him, which only has Seungcheol wanting to wrap him in his arms and never let go. “You c-came for me?” He stutters when Seungcheol slips his hand through the soft mop of his hair, fingertips tracing his ears.

“Of course I did. C’mere kitten.” He persuades, and Jihoon moves, unfurling cautiously, eyes darting between Seungcheol and the two men standing a short distance behind him. Jihoon steals a glance at him and crawls a little closer, thin-limbed and lithe even through the bulk of his oversized sweater.

Seungcheol eases Jihoon onto his lap, his small arms come up automatically to wrap around his neck, the pillow he’s been hiding behind is abandoned on the floor like a flag of surrender.  Seungcheol keeps talking, keeps stroking Jihoon’s back gently, keeps coaxing him with a quiet steady murmur that starts out as banal reassurance and shifts into something closer to a confession.

Jihoon hardly moves in all that time, but Seungcheol never stops his stroking, though his voice eventually gives out from the constant reassurances. He hardly believes he has this kind of patience.

Then Jihoon meows softly and burrows his head into Seungcheol’s shoulder. Seungcheol can smell the peachy scent of his hair, is close enough to press his nose to the top of Jihoon’s head and breathe him in deeper still. He doesn’t. He _knows_ the effect that scent will have on him.

So, he simply holds Jihoon, lets him take comfort from the peace and safety he seemingly projects, lets him acclimate himself to the arms holding him again. Seungcheol runs his knuckles up and down Jihoon’s arm until he meows and butts his head against Seungcheol's wrist, and then he smiles and switches to running his fingers through Jihoon’s hair.

He pets Jihoon until he's purring again, until small hands grip his shoulders tightly and wide, panicked dark eyes meet his own. “Am I yo—yours now?” Jihoon says, voice hushed and sincere. There's something like wonder on his face and awe in the protective curl of his tail around Seungcheol's back.

“Yeah, you’re mine. I’m taking you home with me.” Seungcheol says and Jihoon lets himself melt, secure in the knowledge he's safe. He's in hands he trusts. For the first time in a long time, he's absolutely certain he's where he belongs.

…………………………………………..

“Okay, so, you guys realise Jihoon’s a boy right?” Seungcheol says, looking bemusedly at Joshua’s case full of pink and pastel hybrid clothes, “Like a male hybrid. What’s up with all the pink?”

“Excuse you, boys can wear pink too.” Joshua cheerfully replies, folding the clothes and neatly settling them into a case.

“He would have enjoyed wearing these had you not corrupted his tastes with the whole, oversized trend.” Jeonghan gestures apathetically.

Refusing to let the mans prickly defensiveness get to him, Seungcheol smiles. “Are you kidding. The oversized look is so perfect on him, look how precious he is.” His voice intones gently as he gestures to a silent Jihoon still wrapped tightly around his waist. Jihoon sniffles, ears twitching and cheeks flushing as all focus turns to him once more. Unable to handle the scrutiny he turns and burrows his head into Seungcheol’s chest.

Jeonghan sighs, rolling his eyes. “Out of the two of you, I don’t know who has whom, wrapped around who’s little finger.”

Seungcheol lets out a bark of laugher and moves to unwrap Jihoon’s arms from around his waist so that he can pull out his cheque book, but the hybrid mewls pitifully and tightens his grip. “I’m not going anywhere kitten, I just need to get something out of my jacket.” He reassures, patting Jihoon on the head.

Jihoon's eyes are big and dark, but he obediently unwraps his arms around Seungcheol’s waist and clasps his hands together nervously. Seungcheol grins and pulls out his cheque book. Signing off a cheque and ripping it out of the binding.

“Thank you.” Jeonghan says, forcing a smile as Seungcheol hands the cheque over.

“Are you planning on buying again?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the top of Jihoon’s head as he cradles him closer once more.

“No.” Both Joshua and Jeonghan answer at once.

“This experience has been enlightening. Despite all the research we did and how well prepared we were—I don’t think we’re cut out for hybrid pets.” Joshua says glumly.

…………………

Seungcheol honestly can't bring himself to care about the 25,000 dollars he’s just dropped in the blink of an eye on something he didn’t know he wanted until 5 days ago.

In the scheme of things, why have a rainy day fund when you could have a hybrid?

He sets a sleeping Jihoon, quiet and shivering, in the passenger seat and buckles him in. He blasts the car heater on and drapes his jacket over Jihoon, tucking it carefully around him, before packing the clothes in the trunk and holding up a hand of gratitude at Joshua and Jeonghan, watching them from their front door.

Seungcheol drives home at a slightly less frantic pace than he had set getting there, but he's still teasing the edges of the speed limits, eager to get Jihoon back and warm and officially in his arms again. His eyes are regularly drawn to Jihoon's face, exhausted, tense even in sleep. His shoulder is bare where the stretched sleeve of his sweater keeps slipping down, exposing the clean lines of his collar bone. He seems vulnerable like this, which isn't something Seungcheol has ever associated with sex appeal, and Seungcheol looks away, feeling as if he's treading on some invisible line he's not certain he should be crossing.

He’s amazed by how much Jihoon's health and well-being matters to him. He's pleasantly infatuated with the hybrid (and probably always will be), but somewhere over the last 48 hours, it's become something deeper. More than ownership, perhaps a shade less than love, but sure and abiding, based in trust and a bond of sorts. He’ll have to read more about that later.

When he pulls up to the house, Jihoon is still fast asleep and Seungcheol is happy for it. He lifts him out of the seat and takes the stairs at an even pace, careful not to jostle Jihoon too much. He drops the case off inside the door, and goes straight to the bedroom without turning on a light, laying Jihoon down on the bed.

He seats himself on the edge of the bed and gives himself permission to look. Jihoon, fast asleep, in one perfect piece, in his bed.

_I have never been so happy._

Seungcheol smiles and reaches out to stroke his hair, threading his fingers tenderly through the curls until he's too tired to keep his eyes open. Carefully he lifts the hybrid to the side, pulls back the bedding and slips him underneath. He steps back so he can strip down to boxers and when he glances back, feline eyes are glowing in the darkness, watching him intently.

He slips beneath the covers and turns on his right side facing Jihoon. He can just make out his profile in the darkness; the hybrid is pressed up against him in a second, nuzzling his face into Seungcheol's neck and making a soft snuffling noise. "Cheollie," he mumbles, entirely content.

“Yes baby, it’s me. Are you okay?” he asks, voice quiet.

“Better now, now that I’m yours.” comes the equally quiet response, dark eyes glowing softly.

Seungcheol doesn't know how long they lie there, not sleeping, listening to one another breathe, grateful for the luxury. Without thinking, Seungcheol stretches a hand out, his fingers brushing the skin of Jihoon's arm. A moment later, Jihoon’s hand settles over his, lacing their fingers together in a loose hold. Neither of them says a word. Neither of them lets go until long after they've fallen asleep.

**……………………………………..**

He stirs with a sleepy groan and blinks blearily at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock: **07:00**.

Seungcheol really doesn’t want to get out of bed.

Not when Jihoon is pressed so sweetly against him, cheek warm on his neck, his chest rising and falling with the even rhythm of sleep. But he has to get to work and before that, he has to have a shower. A soft, furry tail is curled around his waist, holding him close, and Seungcheol carefully shrugs it off. He slides Jihoon on to the patch of the bed that still retains a faint echo of his body heat and tucks the blanket in around him before slipping out.  

He showers and dresses quickly, mindful of the time and when he’s almost ready to leave Jihoon shifts under the sheets and wakes.

“Cheol,” Jihoon murmurs, turning his face into the pillow, patting the bed, searching for Seungcheol’s heat.

“Shh, it’s alright. Go back to sleep kitten. I need to go to work but I’ve left you a contact number on the dresser, there’s plenty of food in the fridge and I’ll be back real soon.” Seungcheol assures, tugging the blankets up, covering Jihoon.

Even now, even though he’s supposed to be preparing to leave, Seungcheol wants to keep his hands on him, strip him out of his sweater and shorts and put his mouth on every delicious inch of him. He settles for kissing his forehead and stroking down his cheek and throat until the collar of Jihoon’s sweater gets in the way.

He traces his thumb over the dip of his collar bone and Jihoon's pale fingers wrapped loosely around his wrists.“I tried to be happy, with them. But I was scared.” he says quietly. “I missed you.”

“Me too kitten, I missed you too.” Seungcheol says honestly.

There's silence between them for a few minutes, Seungcheol sitting on the edge of the bed watching Jihoon's chest rise and fall beneath the blanket. Jihoon's fingers don't slip from Seungcheol’s wrist, though, and as he moves to carefully extricate himself, Jihoon’s grip tightens.

Seungcheol looks at him fondly. “The last thing I want to do is go to work today, but I have to Jihoonie.”

“When will you be back?” Jihoon sounds petulant, and Seungcheol wishes he wasn't making this harder than it needs to be. Of course he wants to stay, he wants nothing more than to slide under the sheets and sleep with Jihoon pliant against him. But he has a job and he has to provide for them both now.

“5pm at the latest.” Seungcheol gets up to leave again, but Jihoon's stubbornly clinging to his wrist.

“You’re coming back, right?” Jihoon says. “You’re definitely coming back.” He squeezes Seungcheol wrist firmly before releasing it reluctantly.

Several questions whirl around in his head, but Seungcheol pushes them aside, knowing Jihoon needs reassurance, not more questions. He settles a hand against the small of the hybrids back without conscious thought, rubbing small circles there. “Of course baby, I’ll come right after work. You have the number to my office and cell and you can call me whenever you want.” Seungcheol reassures. “When I get back, we can do anything you want.”

“Anything?” Jihoon repeats, sounding pleased at the idea. He looks delighted and adorable, trying to latch onto Seungcheol all over again. Seungcheol presses his mouth softly to the shell of his ear, doesn’t dare kiss him anywhere else since he won’t want to stop and it won’t take much for Seungcheol to come unravelled.

He drops his voice to a whisper and cups a hand over Jihoon’s cheek, allowing himself one last touch, “Anything.” He confirms.

………………………………………….

Coming home to Jihoon— _fuck_ —It’s indescribable. He can’t find words to explain the warmth that starts low in his stomach as he turns the key in the door, then rises slowly at the sound of hurried footsteps and excited mewls as he pushes it open, and finally the crescendo of heat erupting in his chest as Jihoon skids into view, almost slipping on the polished floors.

Seungcheol has to drop the bag he’s carrying because Jihoon clambers up his frame, nuzzling and butting him, arms winding around his neck and purrs already trying to rush out of his mouth, all wound up just from seeing Seungcheol again.

“Jihoonie, please don’t tell me you’ve been waiting in the hallway all day.” Seungcheol laughs.

Jihoon blushes and shakes his head. “I waited a little, but I was doing other stuff too. Come see.” Jihoon urges with a soft kiss to Seungcheol’s cheek, before disentangling himself and tugging Seungcheol down the corridor towards the kitchen.

Seungcheol glances around the kitchen, the now box and clutter free kitchen that smells like vanilla and buttercream. “Did you—“ Seungcheol begins.

“I packed away your boxes.” Jihoon interrupts in a rush.

“You didn’t have to do that Jihoonie.” Seungcheol says, smiling warmly.

“And I baked cupcakes!” he adds excitedly.

“What!” Seungcheol gasps, the horrifying image of Jihoon absentmindedly lining cupcake cases while the house erupts in flames around him springs to mind.

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “ _Don’t worry_ , I didn’t set fire to anything.” he adds, as if Seungcheol’s mind has been broadcasting every ridiculous thought in it. 

“Look.” Jihoon says, guiding him to a cooling rack where a dozen freshly baked cupcakes sit, awaiting icing. He holds out one pre-iced treat for Seungcheol to take, looking absolutely excited, like some bizarre version of Little Red Riding Hood bringing treats to the wolf, which doesn’t make Seungcheol think very highly of himself at all. 

“Jihoonie, you don’t have to do any of this for me.”

Jihoon scowls up at him, practically pouting “But I wanted to,” And he trails off, seeming to slump in on himself a bit. ”You don’t like it?”

Seungcheol slips a hand around to the back of his neck without even thinking about it. “Hey, none of that. Of course I like it kitten.” Seungcheol smiles, rubbing slightly, cupping the warmth there, feeling the softness of kiss curls at Jihoon’s nape. Jihoon leans into the touch right away, pliant and perfect, and Seungcheol can’t resist pressing a quick kiss to his temple. “I just don’t want you to think you have to do any of this. It’s not your job.”

“I live here now. I want to contribute and—“ He pauses, his eyes unwavering even as his tone falls soft and somewhat infinitely sad between them. “I know I cost you a lot of money Seungcheol. I know I can’t pay it off in my lifetime, but I want to make you happy.”

“You already make me happy.” Seungcheol says without a moment’s hesitation, drawing him close and hugging him. 

Jihoon's face shifts from slightly stunned to stupidly happy. At least Seungcheol thinks that's what happens. He's too busy being nuzzled within an inch of his life against the fridge to make an accurate assessment, but he honestly can't say he minds. Even when Jihoon swats him with his tail and says “You said you would be back at 5 Cheol! It’s a quarter past!”

“I got caught in traffic!”

………………………..

Seungcheol's palms are sweating.

It's a ridiculous response to the situation, really. Jihoon’s just reading a magazine.

Well—he’s not _just_ reading a magazine.

Jihoon is lying on his stomach, quite serenely on the bed in the spare room, flipping through a brochure while Seungcheol arranges all his ‘Designer clothing’ into the spare wardrobe. His legs kick back and forth distractedly and his tail is out, thumping softly against the mattress as he hums a tune under his breath.

He’s the picture of innocence. But he’s wearing Seungcheol’s shirt and Seungcheol’s not sure he’s wearing much else underneath and _that_ is what has his palms sweating and his dick twitching. Every time Jihoon swings and kicks his leg off the bed the shirt rides up a little and exposes his pert little butt. Just a brief flash, a glimpse that could easily be missed if Seungcheol wasn’t deliberately and shamelessly looking for it.

It’s a great opportunity to catalogue the pale expanse of smooth skin, the creases under the perfect slope of his ass. He imagines tracing the crease with his tongue—not an entirely new thought, if he's honest. None of what he feels for Jihoon is new; only the desire to act on those feelings instead of ignoring them is in any way a change, and Seungcheol isn't entirely sure that's true either.

“Damn, I don’t care how designer these clothes are. They’re hella ugly.” Seungcheol shakes his head, examining a tiny pair of leopard print shorts with amusement. “Although, I’m sure anything looks nice if you wore it.” The quip doesn't do much to still the fluttering in his stomach. If anything, the dimpled smile he gets in return only enhances it.

Seungcheol leans down to whisper in Jihoon’s ear. “Be honest Jihoonie, you didn’t really miss me, you didn’t want to stay with those guys cause they were going to make you were these ugly clothes.”

Jihoon gasps and flips over on the bed, his mouth a perfect moue of deliberately pretty disappointment. “I’d wear those clothes if you wanted me to. I’d wear anything for you Seungcheol.” He says timidly with a sparkle in his eyes.

A wave of gentle, oddly comforting heat rolls up and over Seungcheol’s skin and a smile tugs at his lips. “You can wear anything Jihoonie, I’m not going to dictate your clothing choices. But I can take you shopping for new threads. Seeing as you like wearing my clothes so much, I can take you where I shop.”

“Wow, and where do you keep the time machine you use to travel back to the 80’s where you buy all these clothes?” Jihoon snarks.

“There’s a mall—wait—“ Seungcheol stops in his tracks and turns back slowly to face him.

Jihoon just made a joke—about his clothing choices no less. Seungcheol chuffs a soft laugh, and when his wide astonished eyes lock with Jihoon, he can hardly believe the calm delight lighting up those dark depths. Somehow, Jihoon can make insults sound like foreplay and Seungcheol is at a loss as to whether kissing him or spanking him over his knee is more appropriate. “Kitten, did you just make a joke about my taste?”

Blushing softly, Jihoon’s eyes dance with merriment and he rolls back over on to his stomach, shying away.

Sputtering, Seungcheol stomps over to the bed and flips Jihoon onto his back like a ragdoll. “Are you being cheeky?” he titters, leaning over the hybrid, hands braced on either side of his head, boxing him in with his bulk. Jihoon giggles and nuzzles into his arm with a purr. “Oh no, don’t try and purr your way out of this. You insulted me. Are you going to take it back or am I going to have to punish you kitten?” he questions, raising an eyebrow mockingly.

Jihoon gives a slow smirk, waving his tail in view and flicking the tip under Seungcheol's nose. Seungcheol affects a gasp. “I can’t believe you just slapped me with you tail.” he exaggerates. “That settles it then—I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

Seungcheol reaches a hand out, fingers curved at the ready, “Last chance Jihoonie. Say you’re sorry for making fun of my awesome style.”

Jihoon snorts and muffles gives a curt little snicker against his palm. Seungcheol clucks his tongue reproachfully, suddenly reaching to attack the hybrid’s sides with playful, tickling fingers.

The first squalling cry of laughter pierces the air like ripping paper. Jihoon squeals, descending into a squirming, shrieking bundle as he thrashes on the bed. “Cheol—ahhh—hnn—stop. I’m ticklish,” he squeals.

“Well—duh.” Seungcheol drawls, not stopping. “I don’t hear an apology Jihoonie.” Seungcheol warns.

“Never.” Jihoon gasps in between giggles, trying in vain to twist away from Seungcheol’s teasing digits. Seungcheol’s doesn’t let up and with glee he increases his efforts. Jihoon chokes incoherently, bucking and twisting, writhing in exquisite torment, hands and feet kicking out with bruising strength.

Seungcheol pins down Jihoon’s legs easily under the weight of one knee as he renews his efforts. With his limbs restricted, Jihoon’s tail joins the effort to defend him and it wraps around Seungcheol’s arm tightly, trying to hinder his movements. Before Seungcheol can process what he’s doing, he reaches for the hybrids tail, uncoils it from around his arm and begins caressing the soft fur, backwards against the grain.

Jihoon’s laughter abruptly trails off to a sobbing chant of, “Ahhm—Yes—Ahh—Cheool!”

Seungcheol repeats the gesture with predatory elation. He ruffles the fur back and smirks as Jihoon emits a tiny, helpless keening sound. Another tight stroke has Jihoon arching his back and spreading his legs, hefting his hips up enough for Seungcheol to catch a teasing glimpse of his belly button.

Grinning, Seungcheol strokes the tail again, watching Jihoon’s reaction carefully. The hybrids lips part to exhale a breathless moan as his hips roll upward. It is then that the Seungcheol notices the bulge distending the fabric of Jihoon’s shirt. And his conversation with Jeonghan plays back in his head.

_The tail is an erogenous zone you idiot._

“Oh,” he murmurs, cheeks warming as he takes in the sight underneath him; Jihoon coated in sweat and panting heavily, lips pink, eyes mere slits beneath heavy lashes.

Mortification sweeps through in a rush, leaving Seungcheol almost breathless with self-recriminations. He lets go of Jihoon’s tail immediately, but the delicate velvety appendage will have none of it, and wraps itself around Seungcheol’s wrist and forearm as if pleading for more. Swallowing, Seungcheol decides to hold still and let things be, realizing fully that he has meddled enough with things he was not only not supposed to touch, but hadn't been given permission to touch either.

 _“Hmm—Seungcheol.”_ His name was no more than a whisper, as if Jihoon’s lungs had failed him before he truly found his voice. Tiny cat ears pull back against Jihoon’s hair; a small pink tongue smooths slowly over his lower lip and he meows again, brown eyes still murky with the stirrings of lust.

It takes all of Seungcheol’s slowly draining willpower to not simply take him there and then.

Silence reigns. Both of them shift on the bed, then fall quiet again.

Seungcheol lays his palm on the bed, poised over Jihoon, distracted by the pink in his cheeks and the way his fringe curls over his brow, he touches him without thinking, thumbing a cheekbone. Watching the small hybrid intently, Seungcheol notices that Jihoon calms after a few minutes, his tails grip loosening itself to thump against the bed in a quiet rhythm.

“Jiho-“ Seungcheol begins, tries to swallow, tries again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Jihoon blinks, his eyes finally focusing, a pretty flush to his cheeks. “Why-“ And he stops, looking stricken, then his lashes drop, excruciatingly fragile. “Okay.” He whispers before he swallows self-consciously and looks away, engrossed in some spot on the far side of the room.

Seungcheol recognizes the tactic from an adolescence spent never being able to measure up to his father's expectations. He gently turns Jihoon's face to look at him. Their faces are only inches apart, eyes locked on one another, and Seungcheol thinks it would be so very easy to lean in and kiss Jihoon. He’s not sure the gesture would be entirely unwelcome, but it isn't the right time anyway.

“I don’t feel like cooking tonight. Let’s order in food instead—what do you feel like having?” He asks, breaking the moment.

Jihoon's lips quirk upwards into a self-effacing smile. “Pizza?”

……………………………………

Seungcheol knows this is going to happen eventually. It’s not a case of **if** anymore, it’s a case of **when**. And perhaps a little question of _how?_

He’s going to fuck Jihoon. Or make love to him or mate him or rut him or whatever the hell those research articles he read termed it.                                        

As detailed as those articles were. They didn’t cover all the bases when it came to Hybrid/Human interspecies sex. Seungcheol wishes for a practical demonstration, just to ease his mind that this was in fact possible and that others had done it. Despite his desire for the small Hybrid, he doesn’t think being a pioneer in the field was ideal.

He can’t exactly access this sort of content at work, and the offices intranet would no doubt restrict the content of such sites. He can’t exactly flip his laptop open and start watching with Jihoon sitting next to him either. Although Seungcheol grins as he imagines the cute blush and shy averted gaze Jihoon would give if he were to.

He has to wait until Jihoon has succumbed to slumber in his arms, before picking him up gently and taking him to the bedroom. He returns to the living room, flicks through the television distractedly and when he can’t stifle his curiosity anymore, he flips his laptop open and searches.

 **SEARCH: How to have sex with hybrids**.

He clicks onto a medical site first, quickly scanning the article. Feline scenting, sex cycles (What the fuck?), self-lubrication (seriously?), mewling, tail foreplay (interesting) and mating (hello).

It was all very riveting stuff. Probably a lot more than he needed to know but it was better to be well researched than understudied. He reads a few ‘expert’ medical opinions on the topic and that was enough information for him, until. _Well._

A pop up appears at the top of the page. In bold flashing letters, is the heading. ***SEX WITH HYBRIDS –LIVE.***

Suddenly, the prospect of spending the evening reading medical articles seems embarrassingly mundane. The website he clicks onto is decidedly shadier than anything he’s looked at before. There's a video embedded in the middle of the page, tucked in between advertisements of ***HOT SEXY HYBRIDS***

Seungcheol hovers the cursor over the play button, drops the volume and hits play.

He expects a grainy video, some perverted home movie. But the clip is surprisingly high quality considering the content. The hybrid featured is feline, tall and slim with blond hair falling over his face. He's crouched low to the ground and yowling loudly, tail swinging from side to side. Seungcheol skips five minutes ahead, arousal tingling down his spine as he watches the feline arch his throat and lift his tail, showing off his glistening hole before pressing himself back onto a guys cock, crying out in pain and ecstasy.

Seungcheol pinches his brow, feeling guilty when he wishes, fleetingly, that the hybrid was a few sizes smaller and that his hair was a few shades darker.

Oh, but that thought creates an image that distracts him too much, and Seungcheol summons up a few mental images from earlier, of him tickling Jihoon on the bed. The cloth of his pants rasps uncomfortably against his skin; the urge to slide his hand underneath the waistband of his sweats overpowers him and he rubs a palm over his stupidly hardening dick.

His brain helpfully transforms those memories and now he imagines Jihoon writhing below him, in ecstasy instead of in agony, calling his name and begging for his touch instead of giggling and shoving him away. He has an unquenchable desire to taste that satin skin and the intoxicating sweetness of willingly spilled....

“Seungcheol,” Jihoon’s voice suddenly intones. Seungcheol startles a little; that video seriously fucked with his concentration. With the way Jihoon is smelling right now, Seungcheol should have smelt him coming a mile away.

“Are you still working? I can’t sleep when it’s not next to you.” Jihoon yawns, walking into view. He’s wearing another shirt of Seungcheol’s to bed and it cuts just above his knees, but the split exposes his thighs.

Seungcheol wants nothing more than to pin him down on any surface and suck bruises into every inch of his skin. He wants to fuck him too, but his brain is _really_ pushing at the whole marking his territory idea.

“Hey—kitten.” Seungcheol smiles tightly, trying to keep his gaze focused on Jihoon whilst simultaneously clicking out of the browser. It’s typical really, the moment you get caught watching porn, that little X in the right hand side of the browser, gets smaller and smaller.

“Come sleep with me Cheol.” Jihoon says in a warm, sleepy voice. The sound is like a caress down Seungcheol’s spine, his dick throbs in his pants.

_I’d love too—I really would._

Seungcheol entertains the thought for one long, delicious moment. Maybe Jihoon’s ready for this, maybe he would let him, maybe he would let Seungcheol touch him and stroke him until he's purring. Let Seungcheol open him up with his fingers, let Seungcheol slide his cock inside of him, let Seungcheol fuck his tiny hole open till he’s keening and whimpering. Seungcheol knows he would make it so good for him. He would kiss him as well, whispering things against the shell of his ear. Maybe he would let Seungcheol roll them over, encourage Jihoon to straddle him and Jihoon would cry as he sat down on his cock. Maybe he would ride Seungcheol, quietly at first with stuttered breaths while he adjusted to the intrusion and then he would meow and wail as Seungcheol picked up the pace. Maybe Jihoon would beg for Seungcheol to spill inside of him, so soft and sweet, plead for Seungcheol to fill him up with his come, and then.

And then.

“Cheol, what are you doing?” Jihoon asks, stepping closer, twitching his ears and sniffing the air, then stopping in his tracks. Those piercing brown eyes pin him like a bug on the wall, and Seungcheol can't help squirming.

_Stay calm, stay clam—remember he can scent emotions._

"I--" Well, that was a promising beginning. He almost chokes on that single word. The single letter, at that. He can't say it. He can't say anything. His opportunity to lay it all out on the table was rapidly passing, and he can't think of a damn honest thing to say. “Nothing—I was just doing some research, for work.” The words flow out on the tide of a shaky exhale.

Seungcheol’s entire body goes still as Jihoon’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. It was eerily quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator breaking the silence. Seungcheol had spent well over a month alone in this house, but he's never heard a silence quite so loud as this one.

A small exhalation. It could have been a small laugh. It could have been a sigh. “Okay, will you come sleep soon?” Jihoon asks, still regarding him steadily, eyes gleaming with unasked questions.

Shutting his mouth with guilty relief, he loosens his pent-up breath on another shaky exhale. "Sure Jihoonie, I’m coming to bed now."

He watches Jihoon retreat out of the room, listens to his soft footsteps as he returns to bed and when he is sure Jihoon is out of earshot, a frustrated sigh bursts from Seungcheol’s chest. He pulls the laptop closed. He doesn't follow Jihoon to bed straight away, he looks blankly at the wall for a bit, needing a moment to compose himself and get the totally delicious picture of Jihoon squirming in hedonistic pleasure out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I have a new laptop! Can you tell?  
> 2) For somebody who doesn't quite enjoy hybrid fics.....I am rather enjoying writing this.....  
> 3) Yall can chill no that they're back together. :)  
> Hope you enjoy reading! Feedback is a gift! :)


	4. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hohohohoh

Seungcheol checks his watch – the day was dragging at a snails pace. _A dead snail._

His days have been reduced to this for a while now. And it’s not that Seungcheol doesn’t like his job, he likes it well enough, he’s great at it too, but these days? He can’t wait to go home because he’s got something to look forward to – _someone_ to go home to.

Seungcheol is at a business luncheon. He is only there to mingle and learn what the bigwigs are saying.  Standard fare. Meeting potential clients, marking them, bearing identification and proffering business cards for his employers. A little choice manipulation— _We’ve heard all about your success in the overseas market, We’re very interested in representing your financial interests_ — _Why don’t we discuss what we can offer you?--_ and it’s just another day at the office.

The luncheon itself was a disaster. A well dressed, invitation-only disaster with appetising platters, but a disaster nonetheless. He’s in the middle of hearing a dull _rags to riches_ story, from a very old, fusty, potential client who is so set in their ways, when he gets an emergency call from Jihoon. It startles him because—Jihoon has _never_ called him from home before.

Excusing himself politely from the conversation, he quickly leaves the room to take the call, but all he can hear on the other end is panicked meowling. “Jihoon? What’s wrong baby?”

The line goes dead.

Seungcheol’s heart promptly jumps into his throat. He pockets his phone and takes a deep breath. Seungcheol is a professional. He’s dealt with difficult situations on a daily basis. He can, for all intents and purposes, handle this like an adult.

Which is to say he promptly yells, FUCK and runs out of the venue and straight to his car.

On the drive back to the house, hundreds of increasingly awful possibilities filter through his mind. Each more devastating than the last.

_Somebody has poached him, broken in to the house and poached my precious kitten!_

He’s suddenly picturing a ransom note, pictures of Jihoon holding up the newspaper with the days date and the phone call he’s going to have to make to the police. _‘SOMEBODY HAS STOLEN MY KITTEN!’_

He parks the car haphazardly along the drive, almost knocking down the mailbox to rush to the front door. It appears undamaged, no sign of forced entry. The front windows are intact and his burglar alarm has not been activated. He fumbles to unlock the door and carefully walks in.

He takes in the scene, piece-by-piece. The hallway cabinet is tipped over, the ironing board and iron discarded on the ground, pictures on the walls have been knocked off or askew, and the contents of the airing cupboard are hanging out.

“Jihoon!” He calls out, voice raspy and slightly breathless. 

**Silence**

_Oh fuck._

“Jihoon baby, where are you?” He tries again, desperation leaking into his tone.

**Silence.**

He steps down the hallway and finds a lone, discarded sock on the floor. Immediately, Seungcheol’s heart begins to race. He almost doesn’t want to look, but he still reaches for the sock, holding his breath. It’s Jihoon’s—or—all that’s left of him. He clutches it to his chest, swallowing down the sob threatening to break out of his throat.

Further down the hallway, he finds the wireless house phone lying broken. “Kitten!” He groans in anguish.

Then his head snaps to the side when a soft mewl floats through the air. Whiny, yet muffled. He calls out again, more hopeful and the mewl echoes once again. He follows the sound down the corridor to the bedroom. He’s about to check under the bed but a soft scratching from the wardrobe draws his attention.

Sliding the wardrobe open, he jerks back when suddenly, Jihoon’s head pokes out from in between his shirts.

“Oh—fuck! You’re okay! You scared the shit outta me Kitten.” Seungcheol breathes a sigh of relief. Suddenly Jihoon hauls him in by the knot of his tie, coat hangers scraping along the rail to make room for him, then quickly pulls the door shut.  “What the fuck!”

“Get in! Shhhh!” He hushes Seungcheol, a small hand sealing over his lips. The wardrobe is partially lit by the overhead lamp and Seungcheol can just make out Jihoon’s features in the shadows. His hair is mussed out of its usual confines, ruffled into a thousand tiny cowlicks and he's staring at Seungcheol like an animal in a trap, eyes wide with alarm, a furrow marring his brow. He doesn't look happy. But he doesn’t look injured.

“What’s wrong baby?” Seungcheol says slowly, as if speaking to a skittish animal, which he supposes, Jihoon _half_ is.

“It’s back!” Jihoon hisses. Seungcheol feels something soft skim over his cheek, and realises Jihoon is nuzzling him with the tip of his nose.

“Wait—What is?” Seungcheol has a tricky time concentrating when he's faced with a sudden lapful of Jihoon. His hands automatically come up to hold the small hybrid, hands cresting over the curve of his ass and the quivering backs of his legs on instinct.

Seungcheol’s eyes adjust to the reduced light and he can make out Jihoon’s face more clearly. He looks vulnerable, breath-taking in a way that has all the blood in Seungcheol's body shooting south even though he's aware that isn't the most appropriate reaction. Jihoon meows at him, tear tracks smudged over the flushed skin of his face, brow screwed up in a frown.  “The monster, it’s back—it attacked me.”

Seungcheol nearly growls, skin prickling with anger. “ **What?** Who! Wh-“ A small finger to the lips halts his barrage of questions.

“You know—the monster you destroyed last time. The one that eats and yells at the same time!” Jihoon whispers, his little fists opening and closing helplessly in the cotton of Seungcheol’s shirt as he tries to swallow down the meows trying to break out of his throat.

“The hoover-“ Jihoon tsks at him, knuckling absently at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t say its name—it could find us!” Jihoon reasons, _unreasonably_ , squirming forward on Seungcheol’s lap until they are touching as much as possible. He bumps his nose along Seungcheol’s throat kittenishly, smelling him, calming himself. Seungcheol loves how the fit and move together.

Jihoon is  _small_ , delicate and restless as a flame, and Seungcheol’s hands seem to eat up almost his entire back when he splays them there, absorbing the warmth that escapes through Jihoon’s sweater.

“I was doing some ironing, and I couldn’t remember where you kept the iron and I was looking around and I found this secret door. I opened it and **there it was**. All coiled up— _waiting for me._ I think it was sleeping because it didn’t make a noise. I tried to close the door on it again but then suddenly, it moved! It’s big rubber arm looped around me. I tried to run away but I tripped and lost my sock. I tried to call you but I was so nervous I dropped the phone.” He whimpers sorrowfully. “It was awful Seungcheol!”

“So awful!” Seungcheol echoes even as he feels a laugh rippling the edges of his words like a flame licking at paper. He thinks he should tell Jihoon about the hoover. Sit them both down together in mediatory discussion to resolve their differences.

 ** _But,_** he also likes that Jihoon is dependant on him for some things.

Seungcheol sighs gustily. “Jihoon, baby, kitten—I need to tell you something about the hoover.” He says, looking deep into the hybrids, wide, trusting eyes.

“What?” Jihoon whispers, his tail sweeping restlessly over Seungcheol’s back and neck, making coherent thought more and more difficult.

“The hoover is not a threat to you,” He pauses, then “Because it’s dead—I killed it.”

** Note to self: Buy a quiet, stand up hoover. **

“Oh! Really!! Thank god! Oh gosh!! _You’re so brave!”_ Jihoon whispers in awe against the crest of Seungcheol's cheekbone.

“I know— _I am.”_ Seungcheol agrees shamelessly, cracking a devious smile when Jihoon purrs and nuzzles against his chest in gratitude. “Uhh—I mean—I’m just a simple man, who saw a dangerous adversary and I just couldn’t let it destroy people’s lives. So, I risked my own to save the world and—if that’s what you call brave— _I guess that’s what I am.”_

Jihoon rubs the top of his head under Seungcheol’s jaw, flicking his ears ticklishly over his lips. “You are! You are so brave Seungcheol— _and handsome!”_ he breathes, his mouth wet and delicate over the pulse in Seungcheol's neck, and Seungcheol can't  _not_  go cross-eyed, just a bit.

A bloom of heat starts between his shoulder blades and swiftly spreads. “Oh—well—fuck. Thanks.” Seungcheol chokes awkwardly. He’s never had a problem accepting compliments before but somehow it’s different coming from Jihoon. Nevertheless, he allows the euphoria to buoy him up.

The urge to bury his nose against Jihoon’s hair and breathe in his scent flits through Seungcheol like it always does, and like clockwork, Seungcheol swallows it down.  But he smiles warmly as Jihoon purrs and kneads at his chest, pleased with him and his exceptional bravery.

He remains in that cramped closet with Jihoon a while longer, relishing wonderfully soft smiles against his throat and velvet-warm tail wrapping around his arms. Jihoon looks almost childish when he draws back and fixes Seungcheol with a rather sulky expression after he suggests they vacate the closet.

“But it’s warm and smells of you.” Jihoon protests sweetly.

“Okay—but my legs are starting to cramp and we’re running out of oxygen.”  Seungcheol reasons with fond exasperation.

…………………….

 “Whaddya say we go shoppin?” Seungcheol says, once he returns from a slightly-longer-than-planned trip to dump the twice defeated hoover beast in the trash, where he narrowly avoids another one of Mrs Chan’s attempts to persuade him to join the neighbourhood watch.

Jihoon agrees readily, running off to change.

The impromptu shopping trip isn’t as bad as Seungcheol expects.

It’s exponentially worse.

They’ve never been out shopping together before. It’s not like Jihoon is housebound or anything but Seungcheol works during the day and most of his groceries are ordered online and delivered straight to the front door, so he doesn’t have any reason to venture to the mall during the week.

The few times Jihoon has ventured out of the house with Seungcheol, he was plastered against his side the entire time. As if he was afraid Seungcheol might sprint off and leave him behind. It was a conversation they would have to have eventually—this fear of abandonment, where it originates and how ridiculous it is.

Jihoon is comfortable when they set off, downright cheerful for the entire car ride to the mall, and he only fidgets a little as Seungcheol parks the car up. The minute Seungcheol kills the engine and jumps out of the car, Jihoon is latching on to his arm, an open pleading expression on his face, dark eyes wide, dimples beseeching.

“Don’t you want to put me on a leash?” He murmurs, waving the leash in view.

Seungcheol blinks at the suggestion. He hadn’t even thought of that, or whether it was necessary. “Why would I do that?”

“Because—you own me.” Jihoon says, with a moue on his lips that’s not quite formed a full blown pout yet.

Seungcheol chuckles. “Are you planning on running away or something? Nice of you to warn me beforehand.”

“No—but, you own me Cheol. Don’t you want people to know I belong to you?” Jihoon tells him, again with the not-quite-pout that's getting more and more difficult to qualify as not-quite.

For a few very frustrating seconds, Seungcheol can't respond to that at all. “And a leash is going to prove that? I mean—I know you're mine, you know it. I didn’t know there was a rule about it—is there a rule?” He asks, scratching the back of his head.

He holds Jihoon’s gaze and watches with satisfaction as his honey-brown eyes darken and his cheeks flush pink. “Not officially. But, usually humans put their hybrid on a leash in public unless-“ Jihoon trails off mumbling something under his breath.

Seungcheol skims the back of his knuckles over the hybrids cheek. “Jihoon—do you want me to put you on a leash? Will that make you happy? I just thought I could—hold your hand instead.” He suggests, wrapping his hand around the small wrist in a loose hold.

Jihoon’s breath hitches noticeably at the contact. “Really? You’d---do that?” He gasps, simpering in adoration, ears standing high on point out of his hair. “You’d hold my hand?” Jihoon whispers, touching the tip of his tail to Seungcheol’s cheek.

“Of course I would.” Seungcheol grins, reaching down to interlock their fingers. Jihoon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he sighs, low and happy.

Once they exit the car park elevator, Seungcheol leads Jihoon through the mall. He keeps his strides short and manageable for Jihoon, who seems to be looking around himself curiously at the colorful shops and the eclectic mixture of people. They take the escalator to the second level, approaching what feels like a million pairs of staring eyes. They even pass a few hybrids—all of them on leashes, Seungcheol notes. The hair on the back of his neck prickles. He can practically feel their eyes on him as he walks past with Jihoon, watching them with undisguised envy.

“Listen, kitten.” Seungcheol says, walking with Jihoon towards the hardware and electricals shop. “I need to stop here for a minute. You stay out here while I go inside and check something out (buy a hoover).

“Why can’t I come with you?” Jihoon whimpers.

“Hey, don’t worry. I won’t be long, just wait here precious.” Seungcheol murmurs, a low, careful rumble. His knuckles pass over Jihoon’s cheek, and Jihoon leans into the touch. “It—uhh—dangerous inside. Lots of monsters that I need to defeat.” he says, after a quick glance into the store reveals several hoovers sitting out on display. Jihoon would likely freak.

Jihoon makes an abortive noise of dissent, but obeys. “Please hurry.”

………………………

Seungcheol approaches one of the clerks in a stripy, blue and white shirt, standing behind the till. “Psst—Listen, I need a silent, non-threatening, upright standing hoover.” Seungcheol explains, leaning over the counter conspiratorially, like he’s dealing drugs. 

The store clerk’s eyebrows pop up, amused. "Feline Hybrid?” he says in a confidential tone, sounding like the criminal.

Seungcheol jerks his head back in surprise. “How did you know?!”

The clerks gaze is almost pitying. “Happens all the time. Something about the rubber extension unsettles them. We get a lot of returns with scratch marks. Anwyay—I got just the thing. Introducing the Zeon Delux model Vaccum Cleaner, 4 silent turbo thrust capsule jackets—“

“Dude.” Seungcheol interjects, raising a hand to silence the man.

The man falters mid speech. “Uhh—Yes?”

“If my hybrid doesn’t cry when he sees it— **sold.** You can save your little speech.”

The clerks mouth twists. “You sure? It’s a great speech, I’ve practiced it and all.”

“Positive.” Seungcheol smiles wanly. “How about I go get him and test how feline friendly this is.”  Seungcheol wisely allows him no time whatsoever to answer, rushing off just as the man opens his mouth again.

Seungcheol walks back out to the front of store, determining a path he can bring Jihoon in whilst avoiding the _‘terrifying’_ hoover models on display. When he approaches the entrance, he notices Jihoon conversing with a tall, bespectacled, dark haired man.

Jihoon’s not really speaking, he’s more—being spoken to, while he keeps his eyes low to the ground and little ears flat against his head. His posture screams fear and Seungcheol can almost smell the distrust and suspicion wafting off of him in thick, disconcerting waves.

He finds himself closing in with his fist clenched, listening to the tail end of the conversation as he approaches. “—lovely little ears.” The man is telling Jihoon, hand raised in the air about to pet Jihoon on the head. Jihoon makes a little sound of distress, and the sharp scent of his fear invades Seungcheol’s senses.

“Hey— **pal,** ” Seungcheol says, stepping in between the man and Jihoon. “— **can I help you?”**  He grits out, exhaling heavily through his nostrils.

The man sizes him up, which isn't unexpected, but Seungcheol has trouble keeping his face neutral all the same, especially when Jihoon clasps on to his waist and hides behind him. His heart is pounding hard with possessiveness and anger, an overwhelming jumble of emotions in his chest. It’s like a switch has been flipped that he can’t turn off—even though he logically knows how to calm himself, he just  _can’t_.

“Oh—hello.” The man says, standing straight. He’s slightly taller than Seungcheol, but not nearly as wide and nowhere near as built. Seungcheol could knock him out easily—but he seems jovial enough, smiling openly at Seungcheol, seemingly unfazed by his aggressive demeanour. It relaxes Seungcheol a fraction to realise his intent is not Machiavellian in nature. “I was just speaking to this lovely hybrid specimen here, but he’s a little shy and wasn’t answering any of my questions.  I assume he belongs to you.”

“Yeah—he does.” Seungcheol replies, meeting his eyes and forcing a smile, even if it’s a little serrated around the edges.

The man grins crookedly at Seungcheol, but his eyes are curious, contemplative. “Well, he’s very unique. I was just telling him that, you should perhaps consider putting him on a leash?” He suggests.

The forced smile falls of Seungcheol’s face. “You know—I’m not usually a jerk, but you’ll excuse me if I don’t take up advice from random strangers who know jack shit about my hybrid.” He spits.

The man blinks. as if Seungcheol has just punched him, then he tilts his head back and smiles slightly, not unkindly. “Actually, I’m a research scientist with HybLabs.” The man says, reaching into his jacket pocket to procure a business card.

 

**Jeon Wonwoo**

**Geneticist**

**Hyb/Labs**

“So, I know quite a bit about Hybrids. I’m not trying to interfere with his handling. I was only suggesting you put him on a leash because he’s a rare breed and could be poached easily, because of his size.”

The challenge seeps out of Seungcheol posture then. “Oh—oh right.” Seungcheol says, tugging Jihoon close to him. “How often does that happen?”

“Not as often as before, Hybrids are everywhere now. There used to be a black market for them. Terrible stuff. But back then it was a luxury item for the rich few. Now a lot more people own them and with cloning available, they’re not all genetically desirable anymore.” Wonwoo explains, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He lowers his voice a fraction when he speaks again. “Your one however, is still very rare.”

“Why’s that?” Seungcheol asks, honestly at a loss.

“It’s his size. Perpetually small.” Wonwoo smiles, but it’s as tentative as his tone.

He doesn’t want to ask, he really,  _really_  doesn’t, but Seungcheol hears himself say, “You mean he’s going to stay like—a kitten forever?”

“Yes, that’s his breed, Perpetual kitten. You—“ He pauses, looking at Seungcheol suspiciously. “I’m surprised you don’t know this already. You should have received all this information when you purchased him.”

Seungcheol opens his mouth to defend himself, then shuts it, reconsidering. He doesn’t have to give this stranger his fucking life history.

“I’m pre-owned.” Jihoon speaks up, then drops his gaze to the floor again. There is, Seungcheol decides, definitely a hint of sullenness to his voice.

“Pre-owned!” Wonwoo manages to inject the word with a perfect balance of disbelief and disapproval. “Oh—that explains it.”

Seungcheol is getting more confused by the minute. “Explains what? It doesn’t explain anything, so what if he’s been bought before?” The words tumble out of his mouth, tight and frustrated.

“Well, the previous owner must not have retained his certificate of authenticity or lost it, or maybe he never had one. It’s harder to prove that he’s a pure breed without one and selling him is more difficult too. You can’t be sure if you’ve bought a clone or an original without a certificate.” Wonwoo says, jerking his head towards Jihoon who slumps even further and fixedly begins picking at his collar.

Seungcheol feels like he's waiting for the punchline. Or just the punch. “So what?” Not his best argument, but whatever.

Wonwoo flusters for a moment at Seungcheol’s disinterest. “Well, if you have no intention of selling him on, then I guess it doesn’t matter. But I would still consider putting him on a leash. He’s still valuable to you and a poacher won’t care if he has a certificate or not.”

Seungcheol clucks his tongue. “Why can’t I just hold his hand?”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, then says plainly “Well—certainly, if that’s the status of your relationship, by all means. I don’t judge. I have many friends who have taken a hybrid as their lover.” He finishes, his face is completely straight, but his voice is amused.

“Lover?” Seungcheol chokes, once he's collected himself enough to respond. He takes a step back, schools himself and says in the most bored tone he can manage, “Is that what it represents?”

He spares a quick glance at Jihoon who was looking even more sullen than before, clasping his hands together anxiously, gaze lowered. Something freezes in Seungcheol's chest and refuses to crack. Is that why everyone was staring? Maybe holding Jihoon’s hand without understanding the bigger picture wasn't the best decision, in the long run. But then again—why did it feel right?

“Oh—well. Yes, usually. It’s the difference between ownership and well-” Wonwoo starts, looking at Seungcheol as if he can convey the rest of the sentence with the intensity of his gaze rather than words. Seungcheol lets him.

Seungcheol grimaces as he scratches at his flushed neck. “Good to know. I-“ He breaks off, his throat suddenly dangerously tight. “I had no idea.”

Wonwoo is looking at him with the oddest expression, as if Seungcheol himself were a rare breed of human he has never seen before. “You’re new to the whole, hybrid ownership I take it.”

Seungcheol laughs, sounding brittle in his own ringing ears. “Yeah, it’s been a few weeks.”

Wonwoo grins and nods in understanding. “I figured. Well, you learn on the job really. There’s only so much research you can do and then you just have to let your instincts take over. What feels right will show itself.”

Seungcheol lifts his brows in agreement, a smile curving his lips. “Yeah—uhh—thanks.”

“Good luck.” Wonwoo offers a polite handshake. “I better get going, I just stopped to admire this specimen. But if you’re interested in learning more about hybrid genetics, you have my card.”

……………………………….

After the re-enter the maze of the electricals store, and after Jihoon has befriended the new member of their family, The Zeon Delux Hoover, Seungcheol considers treating him.

“While we’re here we can pick up some new threads for you. There’s a lot of shops around you might like.” Seungcheol offers. He’s in two minds about whether to hold Jihoon’s hand again. After their interaction with Wonwoo, the hybrid seems distracted, upset even.

Jihoon rubs a hand absently over his collar before reaching down to retrieve his leash. “Okay.” he says quietly, moving to clip the leash on his collar. Something about the resignation in his demeanour has Seungcheol reaching out to stop him. Jihoon drops his arm, and he gazes up at Seungcheol with a look that’s far too vulnerable.

Wonwoo may have been a stranger, but he was right about letting your instincts take over, to do what feels right. And Seungcheol’s instincts are telling him to not put Jihoon on a leash. To take his hand again. So he does.

Jihoon’s breath hitches when Seungcheol slips their hands together, a pretty blush gracing his cheeks. “You don’t have to.” Jihoon whispers. There's a smile in his voice, even if he doesn’t turn his head up for Seungcheol to see it. “It’s not like we’re— _you know_ -“ he trails off shrugging his shoulders.

“I want to Jihoon.” He assures. Jihoon smiles coyly and intertwines their fingers, and Seungcheol is almost able to forget about the conversation they've almost had. There isn't anything unusual about this, and he tells himself so a thousand times while Jihoon continues staring at their interlocked hands as if he's waiting for Seungcheol to let go again. Seungcheol has half a mind to pick him up and carry him bridal style around the mall but he settles for a gentling squeeze.

………………………..

They venture into a specialist hybrid boutique, studiously ignoring the glances being sent in their general direction.

“Hello! Are you just browsing today or are you looking for something in particular?” A petite female assistant sidles up to them.

“Uhhh—I dunno. Jihoon, you see anything you like?”

“Oh, hello I didn’t see your little hybrid there.” The assistant is gaping, just short of impolite. Seungcheol notes with amusement that it's not for the reason he is expecting. She looks straight past their interlocked hands to beam extra wide at Jihoon, who mewls and squeezes Seungcheol’s hand. “I’ve never seen a perpetual kitten before! Oh gosh—he’s so **_cute_**.” The shop assistant coos.

“He’s a little shy.” Seungcheol chuckles.

“Yes—but that just makes him all the more cuter! I just want to pinch his cheeks!” She squeals, making hand grabbing gestures.

Jihoon burrows in Seungcheol’s chest, shielding himself in case she tries. Seungcheol wracks his brain for other words besides _‘FUCK OFF LADY!’_ but thankfully she resumes a more professional stance and directs them into the shop.

“We have an entire section dedicated to smaller sized hybrids just over here.” She explains, gesturing to the far end of the store.

Jihoon browses through the selection tentatively at first, but after an encouraging nod from Seungcheol, he immediately starts to paw through the rails, flinging garments to the side, creating complete chaos within seconds. He is smiling, but there is a definite nervousness about him. Seungcheol can always tell by the way he keeps scratching his hand over the back of his head, twisting regularly to check that Seungcheol is still with him, that he hasn’t been left behind. Despite not understanding the reason behind it—it’s heart-breaking.

Jihoon hesitates in between the racks, looking for all the world like a lost kitten in a valley of clothes. “See anything you like?” Seungcheol asks, leaning over one of the rails, eyebrows rising by their own volition as he examines some of the choices on offer.

_Is this a boutique or a fancy dress store or a lingerie shop?_

Jihoon nods. He maintains eye contact with Seungcheol as he carefully lifts a few hangers off the rack.

“Well, do you want to try them on?”

The smile Jihoon give him seems less anxious. He takes a step closer to Seungcheol, hiding the clothes behind his back. “You don’t have to buy me anything Seungcheol. I can wear those other clothes. I like them well enough.”

Seungcheol beams at him. “No, c’mon. I wanna buy you stuff you pick yourself.” he says warmly, shepherding Jihoon toward the changing rooms near the back. "Try on a few things so you can get a feel for what you like."

Jihoon goes up without looking back to see if he's being followed, and when he does turn around there's the smallest hint of amusement on Jihoon's face. “Do you want me to show you outfits? Like a private fashion show?”

“Sure, I’ll just sit here in one of these boyfriend chairs.” Seungcheol says, but Jihoon whips his head around to look at him, cheeks pink and mouth agape, as if Seungcheol has actually stood on his tail or something. It takes Seungcheol a full thirty seconds to realize what he just said. “You know—the chairs outside of changing rooms that guys sit in while their significant others try on cloth—will you just get in there already.” He huffs.

Jihoon ducks his head and smothers a giggle into his sweater paw, slipping into the changing cubicle.

Silently, Seungcheol sinks into one of the ‘Boyfriend’ chairs situated across from the changing room, slouching easily into as supine a position as it allows and waits. 

When the curtain is drawn back the first time, Jihoon is standing there, hands shoved into pockets of pants too tight for that to seem possible. He’s also wearing the tightest top Seungcheol has ever seen, so much so, his nipples are discernible through the clinging cloth. 

“I...” Seungcheol begins, but no other words come out because his throat is too dry and his eyes are too misty and he can feel Jihoon looking at him so  _expectantly,_  waiting for him to give his approval, and he just can't do it. “I don’t like them.” He blurts out, unthinkingly. “Uhh—I mean…..how do they feel?” he corrects mindfully.

“How are you getting along?” The shopping assistant asks, approaching them with another hanger-full of clothing choices. She runs her eyes over Jihoon’s ensemble. “Oh wow, yes. Very sexy—really highlights his cute butt.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes and does not for one second look at Jihoon’s ass.

Jihoon squints at himself in the mirror, wiggling his ass a little. “They’re okay I guess—a little restrictive.” He says, hitching his shorts down slightly, before staring down at his feet with a moody expression. “Do you like them Cheol?” Jihoon’s expression is suddenly very open and very young, as if he needs Seungcheol’s approval. 

Shrugging one shoulder, Seungcheol ignores the hot little surge that shimmers through him as he rakes his eyes down the length of Jihoon’s body, noting the slender frame showcased underneath the clinging material. He turns to address the assistant. “Can you find him something, I dunno—more comfortable. _Cute_ but comfortable.”

“I’ve got just the thing!” She declares, whipping out another outfit.

Jihoon enters the cubicle for another change. When he re-emerges this time, Seungcheol has half a mind to check this ladies dictionary for her definition of _Cute+Comfortable_. This outfit is anything but. Jihoon is now dressed in tiny, black leather shorts that dip low around the hips—so practically a fucking belt. The modesty seems to be reserved for the black mesh, long sleeve top.

“What do you think?” Jihoon asks. He’s pacing in front of the cubicle, eyeing himself seriously in the mirror.

Seungcheol hums vaguely. Jihoon looks like a completely different person. With the collar and the boots—he looks like a _gothic slut_ and it has Seungcheol’s body thrumming like a tuning fork. His own clothes all feel far too constricting and the only response he can focus enough to utter is embarrassingly plaintive. “It’s nice.”

“You don’t like it.” Jihoon states rhetorically, making a face. Seungcheol wonders, not for the first time, if hybrids are actually psychic.

They stare at each other, a silent battle of wills. Seungcheol’s mouth twitches into a smile. “No.” He responds more honestly. “Can you find something that doesn’t make me feel—like a pimp.”

“O—kay.” The assistant flushes.

When Jihoon mutters a few obscenities under his breath, he sounds like a teenager trying out swear words for the first time. Dressed the way he is, he resembles a goth punk kid slouching at the back of class after getting detention, and the combination should be at least a little bit funny, Seungcheol's sure.

“How about we put this in the maybe pile?” Seungcheol reasons.

He can tell Jihoon is restraining the urge to roll his eyes but whips back into the changing cubicle again. When he steps out this time, Seungcheol gets a good long look at his flat-slim stomach, lovely little belly button and milky thighs he can jerk off to, by just looking at them. He’s wearing a pastel blue crop sweater that says _‘Touch me’_ which dips low over his collar and a pair of dark denim shorts with a frayed hem, with a _‘Bite Me’_ logo across the back pocket.

He looks—as the clothes suggest, very touchable and edible. Seungcheol swallows.

The inappropriateness of it is making Seungcheol want to fondle him, strip him bare of everything but that cropped sweater and screw him into senselessness.

Sometimes, having the gift of imagination is more of a curse. He can just picture it now; Jihoon’s pale legs over his shoulders, feet in the air and knees bent up nearly to his ears, so delightfully flexible and willing. He’d meow as Seungcheol kissed the sensitive spot on the side of his neck, meow again as he stroked down to the base of his tail. He’d writhe and plead, fingers playing with his nipples and his tail curling helplessly in the air while Seungcheol fucked him slowly and sinfully and  _hard_.

He shakes those thoughts out of his head to focus on the now. "Those are cute pyjamas," Seungcheol jokes.

"They’re not pyjamas," Jihoon counters. His tone makes him sound sulky and his tail droops behind him to match his mood.

Seungcheol doesn't bother arguing. "How about something that shows a little less—skin." He waits for a wry rejoinder about how wholesomely dull he is. But Jihoon just grabs another outfit from the wrack and disappears in the cubicle once more.

Seungcheol thinks all the clothing on offer seems rather risqué. Perhaps he’s just used to having Jihoon in something lose and draped or perhaps the clothing was true to its nature and suited smaller hybrids. Seungcheol finds himself growing uncomfortable with the idea of Jihoon wearing something that puts some much bare flesh on display, in public.

Jihoon may be small, but there's more substance to him than one might think. Beyond the narrow shoulders and limber limbs; he isn't just skin and bones under his oversized clothes. Seungcheol wants to keep that information close like it's a secret never to be shared, like Jihoon's plump thighs, his pert little ass and his sensitive collar. Not everyone should be privy to his beauty.

The next thirty minutes or so are delicious torture for Seungcheol, as Jihoon parades in front of him in an assortment of different outfits. All of which are cute—sexy—fitting and Jihoon won’t be wearing them outside— **ever.**

After endless outfit changes and a very flustered Jihoon retreating into the cubicle with a broodier face each time, Seungcheol promises himself he isn't going to breathe a word of disapproval on the next outfit.

Then Jihoon opens the curtain looking very tired, with his arms folded. But he’s wearing artfully torn skinny jeans and a dark hooded sweatshirt, stretched and washed into nubby softness. “Perfect!” Seungcheol exclaims, and he truly means it.

Jihoon looks almost angry for a moment before jumping on the spot in excitement. “Really! Great and guess what?—It’s free—because this is what I was wearing this when I came in Cheol!” he finishes his sardonic display with a hiss.

Seungcheol has to hold a hand over his face to muffle his laughter for a moment, before dropping it and smiling sheepishly at the irate hybrid. “Sorry. I guess the color looks different in this lighting. How about you try—“

“No, it’s okay.” Jihoon mumbles, sounding more petulant than menacing even if his tail is bristling. “Let’s go.” He snaps, handing several coat hangers of clothing back to the assistant, before taking Seungcheol’s hand and pulling him out of the boutique.

When they’re back in the car and Seungcheol is behind the wheel, he reaches across and squeezes Jihoon’s knee.

“Look—I’m sorry.” Seungcheol says, He's expecting a shrug in response, but Jihoon just looks at him, expressionless. “I know I said I wouldn’t dictate your clothing choices but— _damn_ —all those clothes were really—revealing Jihoon.”

Jihoon lets out a loud sigh, slumping back into his seat. “It’s okay. I didn’t like them either.” he admits in a low voice, but there's a certain despondency to his words.

Seungcheol touches the back of his hand briefly, eyes bright and serious. “Then why did you pick them out?”

Jihoon lays his ears flat against his head and looks away. “I thought you might—like me in them. I thought I could look nice for you.” Jihoon’s voice is low and his fingers pluck at the hem of his sweater. Almost shyly.

Seungcheol finds he hesitates just a hair before responding. “You look nice for me all the time. Regardless of what you wear.”

Jihoon flushes, ears flattening back, almost disappearing into his hair tufts. “I just saw some hybrids wearing—similar things in a TV show, and their humans really liked them. I dunno—I guess it’s stupid for me to try to be like them.” He murmurs.

Seungcheol turns to him after a long minute of silence, regarding him carefully. “Listen, I’ll buy you anything you want. We’ll go back and buy those outfits but maybe, you just wear them around the house. I know that sounds—controlling. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable about you wearing them—outside. I don’t want people looking at you—like that. It just gives the wrong impression.”

Seungcheol opens the car door again and is nearly out the door when he feels a hand brush his elbow and a deceptively calm voice say, “No—you’re right. I don’t want to give the wrong impression.”

…………………………………….

Later that evening, and after dinner, they’re both resting on the couch watching some awful Johnny Depp film. Jihoon is tucked neatly between Seungcheol and the armrest, purring low in his chest as Seungcheol threads a hand through his hair absentmindedly, admiring the softness tickling between his fingers, when Jihoon squirms against him and breaks the silence.

“Cheol—that scientist you were speaking to in the Mall earlier,” Jihoon begins to ask, though he seems to be addressing the television instead of him.

Letting his hand trail up into Jihoon’s hair to rub at the base of his ears, Seungcheol chuckles quietly. “Yeah—what about him.”

“I know you don’t have a certificate to prove my authenticity, or any proof that I’m pure bred. I know my word doesn’t mean much but—I just wanted you to know, _I am_ pure bred. I’m not a clone.” Jihoon says quietly, and when he looks up, for the briefest of moments, his face is studiously blank before it crumples into hurt. “I can’t prove it but I just---I guess I just wanted you to know that I’m not completely worthless.”

Meeting his eyes just for a moment, Seungcheol takes hold of him by one wrist, placing a palm at the small of his back, and drawing Jihoon across the couch into his lap. It is something Jihoon always allows without a word, Seungcheol manipulating his body until he is straddling him.

Seungcheol chooses his words carefully, but not so carefully that there's a pause of worrisome proportions. “Jihoon—don’t ever say that again. Don’t even think it. I don’t give a shit about your certificate. I don’t even care if you are a clone or if you’re a human pretending to be a hybrid, or a real cat pretending to be a hybrid. I love you, don’t doubt that.”

When he finishes talking, Jihoon is silent against him, head resting on his shoulder. He looks down to find the hybrid smiling softly into his shoulder.

"Did you hear what I said?" Seungcheol mouths against the side of Jihoon’s neck, feeling him wriggle and utter a choked little moan. Then Seungcheol is flickering his tongue there and practically tasting the tremor that runs through Jihoon's body as a harsh purr freely vibrates up from his chest. Jihoon’s skin tastes so sweet on his tongue, and he takes his time sucking soft and wet kisses down the column of his throat. 

He draws Jihoon’s sweater up, palm slipping underneath to press itself flat to his back, stroking ever so slightly before repeating himself. “Did you hear me kitten?”

“Yes, I did.” Jihoon responds lightly.

“Good kitty.” Seungcheol murmurs, grazing a proprietary finger around the base of Jihoon’s tail, and then once again when Jihoon inhales roughly. Jihoon arches easily against him, and Seungcheol’s hand drops naturally to rub small circles just beside the protrusion of one hip.  “Such a good kitty.” He affirms, kissing the hybrids temple.

Jihoon practically glows, very close to grinning, but tucking his face against the side of Seungcheol's neck before it's fully evident.

…………………………..

Jihoon’s reservations about his worth have disturbed Seungcheol. He hates to think about the hybrid doubting himself or their connection over something as trivial as a certificate. It means nothing to Seungcheol. He has what he wants. But he thinks, perhaps there is a way to prove to Jihoon how special he is.

“Hi.”

“Hello sir, My name is Boo Seungkwan, I am the private shopper in store today. I believe you have scheduled an appointment with us, is there anything particular that has caught your eye?” An exuberant, well dressed assistant greets Seungcheol at an upmarket boutique.

“I’m in the market for a collar. Like the one you have on display, but better.”

“Better?”

“Yeah, more luxurious. Something really special.”

“Ahh I see,” Seungkwan says, a small private smile quirking his lips. “Is it for a pet or a companion may I ask?”

“Uhhh—what?” This conversation doesn't have Seungcheol at his most eloquent. He blames the peculiar glint in Seungkwan's eyes.

“A collar for your hybrid pet. Or a collar for your hybrid companion?” Seungkwan asks, as if those extra words made all the difference. He makes Seungcheol feel incredibly stupid and Seungcheol wants to rip his ridiculous purple and mustard tie off and strangle him with it.

“What’s the difference?” Seungcheol asks exasperatedly, head instantly pounding with too many options and growing confusion. His eyes feel as though they're about to roll out of his head from the lack of anything keeping them there.

“You’re new to hybrid ownership.” Seungkwan states, quick on the uptake, not appearing at all surprised when Seungcheol reacts to the accusation without so much as a blink.

“It’s that obvious huh?” Seungcheol replies tonelessly. Seungkwan pats him once on the shoulder, patronizingly, and ushers him over to the display counter, moving to stand behind it.

“I’ve been selling hybrid accessories for ten years. I serve hundreds of customers a day, _I can tell.”_ Seungkwan is saying as Seungcheol rubs at his temples in a futile attempt to will the migraine away.

Seungcheol sighs heavily. “Fine, look. I have a feline hybrid. I want to make him feel special. Really special. He has this collar at the moment and it’s just some standard issue, plastic crap. I hate it. More importantly I know he hates it. I want something soft for him, something luxurious. Something he’ll like to wear and will remind him how special he is to me.”

Seungkwan looks a little skeptical, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to reprimand Seungcheol and laugh his ass off either, which is good. “That’s—really sweet.” He says amiably, his expression one of bewilderment and possibly amusement—if the latter is true, Seungcheol is going to  _murder him_.

“Thanks?”

“It still doesn’t answer my question however. Is he a pet or a companion?” Seungkwan repeats.

Seungcheol chews his lips. “What-“ He begins to ask before Seungkwan continues over him.

“It’s really quite simple sir. A pet is one you keep on a leash, set strict rules for and treat affectionately like a second class family member. A companion is one— _you take to bed.”_ He states, grinning slyly. Something wicked lurks in his eyes.

Inelegantly, Seungcheol's first reaction is to deny everything. “No. Nothing like that. Oh—well he does sleep with me—just sleeps. In my arms. We haven’t done anything else…” Seungcheol trails off, ready to swallow that whole and let the conversation turn back to the collar he was trying to buy, but Seungkwan gives him an artful little smile. 

“Yet?” Seungkwan hints.

“Oh god, I don’t know. This is so confusing.” Seungcheol tells him, voice susurrus as the shadows shifting in the back of his mind. It would happen like this often, too many puzzle pieces coming too close to forming complete images, never a full picture of what he had to do.

He wants Jihoon. He’s thought about it— **a lot** , dreamt about it even more. But he's still anxious, still torn between denial and curiosity. Part of him, mostly the lower half, is desperate to know if Jihoon is really capable of taking him and wanting it too.

Seungcheol sighs and drops his head on the counter. “I want to. I really fucking do, but where do I even start. I feel like I would be forcing him because I’m his owner and, that’s the last thing I want to do. Why am I even talking to you about this, goddamn.” He says through clenched teeth, hands gripping the counter. He can feel himself blushing— _blushing_ , oh god—all the way down his neck.

He expects a shout, an explosion of undignified sputtering, maybe some girlish shrieking and flailing if he's lucky. But, instead of getting his knickers in a twist, Seungkwan actually chuckles, thereby endearing himself to Seungcheol almost immediately.

“It’s okay. Relax. It’s not the first time I’ve had this discussion believe it or not.” he answers, smiling like he's expected nothing else, and Seungcheol hates that he waited this long before having this conversation with someone. “Owning a hybrid isn’t so straightforward for most people. The lines can get blurry. You seem to have the right attitude however, taking his wishes into consideration—not a lot of people would do that.”

A horrible thought occurs to him and something ugly clenches in Seungcheol’s stomach. “What—so owners can just—take what they want? Then—pretend everything is fine. What if he doesn’t want that?”

Seungkwan purses his lips. “Does he seem particularly reluctant? Has he refused you?”

A flash of heat spreads across his cheeks. “No, no. If anything he’s—pretty eager. I think. There have been a few times I’ve had to step away cause—stuff could have happened.” He says in a strangled voice. He finally looks up at Seungkwan, who smiles warmly.

“Then, I think you have your answer.” Seungkwan says loftily, giving Seungcheol a cocky, infuriating smirk.

“You’re useless.” Seungcheol groans, turning his head to ignore Seungkwan’s stupid leering grin.

“Hey—What do you want from me pal! Do you want me to draw a diagram for you? Write a blog post and how to bed your hybrid! Don’t take it out on me that you’re too chicken to make a move.” Seungkwan says, laughing. Seungcheol glares, which doesn't deter him at all.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes and gives a very convincing put-upon sigh while he blushes furiously “I’m not chicken! I just don’t want to make things awkward. I wanted to start by getting him a collar that would suit him. Look, he’s small and gorgeous and perfect.” He punctuates the last sentence by banging on the counter a bit too forcefully.

“Okay—how about you buy the companion collar—suggestively.” Seungkwan offers, voice rising in giddy anticipation. “Then you can gauge his reaction. If it’s positive, then you have a bit more of an incentive to act. If it’s negative, just pass it off as a misunderstanding, tell him you’re not familiar with the rules.”

Seungcheol considers that option for a moment and rubs the heel of his hand over his forehead “What’s the difference between the collars? How will _he_ know I’ve bought him a companion collar?”

Seungkwan pulls out a drawer and two boxes, showcasing two collar types. He picks up a bulky collar first, with a thick buckle, made of unforgiving leather like material.  “It’s subtle differences really. The pet collar is less luxurious of course, but better than the standard issue. It has a shock sensor built in to stun him if he acts out of line or becomes aggressive. You can adjust the sensor to ensure he stays within certain parts of the house and it has a leash attachment.

He pulls out the thinner, ornate collar next. “The companion collar is an accessory, a statement if you will. Like a piece of jewellery. No leash attachment, no shock sensors. But very luxurious. It’s usually adorned with charms or jewels, soft materials. You can get it inscribed or have a special charm added to it. Each design is handmade and bespoke. Trust me—he’ll be able to tell the difference.”

“Okay—companion collar it is. Let’s see what you got.” Seungcheol resolves, feeling a rather embarrassingly sappy grin spread across his face. 

…………………………………..

It's simple once he forces himself not to be embarrassed, having made the purchase with Jihoon's size gleaned from his old collar measurements. He's hoping the diamond, fabric and colour are to Jihoon’s liking, but Seungkwan assures him the collar is as decadent as they come.

The night he plans on gifting it, they’re in the bathroom preparing for bed. Seungcheol can’t keep from stealing glances at Jihoon in the mirror as he brushes his teeth.

The hybrid is intent on being with him every moment he can, nudging up against him insistently, demonstrating his appreciation the best way he knows how, nuzzling Seungcheol to death basically. Seungcheol nearly trips up a couple of times Jihoon’s body encircles him so treacherously.

Once he finishes, he untangles Jihoon from around him, turns him to face the mirror and instructs him to stay still. “I’ve bought something for you.” Seungcheol says, pulling open a bag sitting on the bathroom countertop.

“Close your eyes.” Seungcheol instructs, pressing against Jihoon from behind, one hand resting on his belly, smoothing up and back. There’s an adorably perplexed look on Jihoon’s face, but he obeys the instruction. Carefully, Seungcheol reaches around his neck and unbuckles his plastic collar, tossing it in the basin, before pulling out a box. It isn’t wrapped, because the box itself was enough, so intricately decorated.

“What are you doing?” Jihoon murmurs hesitantly. Seungcheol only laughs against his nape, dropping damp little kisses that make Jihoon sigh and fall silent. He takes his time, carefully palming over the skin he exposed. Jihoon's breaths rise and fall, gradually settling into a rhythm that almost has Seungcheol believing he's fallen asleep standing.

“Cheol.” Jihoon whines as his sensitive neck is tickled.

“No peeking.” Seungcheol chuckles, petting up the back of Jihoon’s neck, dropping a kiss to the freshly exposed soft flesh of his neck, before removing the new collar from the box. He knows Jihoon will know what it is in an instant, and it ties his stomach in knots just thinking about the hybrids reaction.

He slips a beautiful black leather and silk collar on, Jihoon’s pulse beats beneath his fingertips as he fixes it in to place, and he can hear the hybrids breath hitch and stutter as he fastens the buckle.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.” Seungcheol says, dropping his hands to encircle Jihoon’s waist.

Jihoon opens his eyes. At first he’s nervous and blushing, wrinkling his nose at his own reflection. But his eyes flicker to the collar, a hint of interest adding a bit of light to those dark depths. Seungcheol watches as Jihoon plays over it with curious fingers, tracing over the diamond. Reverently, Jihoon feels across the silk, then makes a tiny moaning sound that seems to be equal parts dismay and disbelief.

Seungcheol allows himself a smile since Jihoon’s gaze is still absorbedly fascinated. “Does it feel nice? Does it feel better than your old one? Say something.” Seungcheol tries to laugh, tries to keep the mood as lighthearted as possible.

No reply, but a slow nod. Finally Jihoon speaks. “It’s beautiful.” in a voice gone too soft, too hoarse with emotion. Jihoon's eyes are barely visible, glints through the darkness of his lashes. Bright and prideful.

When their eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror, Seungcheol finds Jihoon watching him with a familiar focused concentration.

Seungcheol kisses the top of his head. “It’s pretty—but you’re what’s beautiful.” He says it into his hair, which is loose and wavy and has the scent of fresh peach clinging to it, and Jihoon may not even hear it at all but his face flits through about a dozen different expressions in five seconds flat. He turns in Seungcheol’s arms and looks him straight in the eye for a brief moment, before walking out of the bathroom and down the corridor.

_What?—fuck!_

Seungcheol can feel himself steadily giving over to anxious dread that the he’s fucked this up somehow. He thinks he must have bought the wrong collar or he’s said the wrong thing. Jihoon’s upset with him now and he’s at a loss of what to do. He tries to clear his head, but he can’t focus anymore, his thoughts a blur of frustrated doubt and irritation, all cobbled together with images of Jihoon. 

He thinks about just talking about it with Jihoon. He stares in the mirror at himself until he can’t anymore, then walks to the bedroom. When he pushes the bedroom door open he’s midway through saying.

“I’m sorry Jihoon-“then freezes.

Jihoon is sitting on the bed, so devastatingly beautiful. He’s watching him through dark-blown eyes, curls wild against pink cheeks, with a hand on the bedsheet held around his waist. He shifts on the bed slightly and the bedsheet glides down a little, which obligingly draws Seungcheol’s eyes to the pale curve of his shoulders and the hollow dip of his collarbones. Only then does Seungcheol notice his clothes discarded at the foot of the bed.

Seungcheol’s heart rate promptly triples. “Are—are you naked under there?”

Jihoon is silent, mouth parted enough to show the barest hint of tongue, wet and gleaming.

_Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck._

Tongue. That goddamned  _tongue_ , wet and pink and peeking out just for the briefest of moments as Jihoon dampens his lips.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I will be on hiatus now for a month.  
> 2) LOL. I joke--I'll update this week probably.  
> 3) Hhohohohoho  
> 4) Thank you to that one person they suggested they go shopping! It was fun to write!


	5. Mating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.....

The scent hits Seungcheol first. The whole room smells like Jihoon, sweet and warm and everything Seungcheol's body is craving.

He makes a mental note, to contact that geneticist and ask him: _‘What the fuck is up with that scent?’_ because he's _never_ been so  _aware_  of Jihoon’s scent before.

Sure, he smells great generally and especially good at a particular time in the evening—but this is different, it has to be, it's like an assault on Seungcheol's senses.

“I take it—you like the collar?” Seungcheol says numbly.

It’s like his body has completely forgotten how to work; watching Jihoon sitting silently on the bed, naked under the covers, giving him a dark lingering look just barely skirting the edges of obscenity. He’s torn between pouncing on him and running over to his laptop and Googling _‘How to have all the sex’_.”

Jihoon nods his head mutely, still watching Seungcheol, tense and silent. His air of easy suggestiveness has melted away and Seungcheol can almost hear the hammering of Jihoon’s heart in his chest, the thrum of adrenaline through his veins, readying him for what comes next.

"Is this your first time?" Seungcheol breathes, although Jihoon doesn't have to confirm that. Seungcheol can detect the change in Jihoon’s scent when he goes from genuinely aroused to genuinely nervous, and instead of sending Seungcheol into another wave of hesitation (the way it's supposed to, the way a normal person would), it makes his skin burn hotter.

The rush of arousal is dizzying, thirst arrowing sharply down from his belly, panging in his fingertips. He’s never wanted anyone like this, not ever. It should be frightening, but instead it feels like shaking off a forge and settling back into his own skin, relaxing into who he’s meant to be.

He watches Jihoon swallow, holding his eyes, almost whining when Seungcheol takes a single step forward.

"You're a—uhmm—a virgin?" Seungcheol asks, gentle and without judgement.

Jihoon nods, a light flush of embarrassment staining his cheekbones and darkening the already rosy-pink skin of his lips."I don’t have experience, but I’ve seen things. I can still make you feel good Seungcheol."

"I know you can." Seungcheol replies gruffly.

Of course, Seungcheol knows, his _body_ knows. He's bowled over by his own need, by how much he wants to be inside Jihoon _now_  and he doesn't give a fuck if he’s ready or not. Is it selfish? — _absolutely_ —but every fibre in his body is screaming at him; want clenching hard in his stomach, fierce and greedy.

Jihoon’s shoulders twitch, a hint of a shudder, and Seungcheol wants to feel it, wants to curve his hands around muscle and soft skin and feel Jihoon quake. He takes another step, halving the distance between them. “Is this what you want?” It comes out rougher than he was expecting, harsh in the uneasy silence.

Jihoon looks away, drops his gaze to where he’s holding the bedsheet around his waist. He presses his lips together, a thin trembling line, color rising indefinitely high in his cheeks. “Yes, I thought that much was obvious.” His eyes dart up to meet Seungcheol’s again and there is small line creasing his brow. “Why—why are you being awkward Seungcheol?” Jihoon asks, voice subdued.

Seungcheol quirks an eyebrow. “How can I not? You’re naked in my bed. It’s the perfect time to get awkward.”

He stares at Seungcheol, blank confusion slowly giving way to something much more complicated. “I’m sorry Seungcheol.” Jihoon whispers. His voice has changed, gone soft and pleading; he must be reading Seungcheol’s scent, misinterpreting what he finds there. “Do you—do you want me to go to the guest bed room?” Jihoon murmurs, pulling the sheets up around him protectively.

It’s the look he gives Seungcheol that’s the breaking point, the moment of truth; all the longing and the frustration and hurt,  _all of it_  is suddenly there in Jihoon’s eyes for Seungcheol to see, open and painfully honest. Or maybe it was always there and Seungcheol just didn’t know _how_ to look.

“Oh _hell no.”_ Seungcheol says in a rush, without thinking, without second-guessing himself. He chuckles, moving forward to close the distance completely, sitting himself on the edge of the bed. “No, I think that would only make things more awkward between us and—I _want_ this.”

He can tell the moment Jihoon reads that determination in his eyes, the moment he wavers on the razor’s edge of doubt and faith. His expression doesn’t change, but his nostrils flare, slightly, as he scents Seungcheol.

Seungcheol can hardly breathe past the vice grip of anticipation in his chest. He leans over a fraction, reaches out to curl a hand around Jihoon’s shoulder – _softly, softly._ He strokes a careful hand down Jihoon’s side, smoothing down his warm, supple flank and skimming over his tail.

“Nothing is going to change if you don’t want this, I’m not going to stop caring for you Kitten. Are you sure this is what you want?” he says again, softer this time: lightheaded with the way Jihoon’s hip fits so perfectly into the cradle of his hand, the shape of their bones together. 

As if Jihoon reads his mind—and maybe he can, Seungcheol wouldn’t be surprised in the least—he turns his head to the side and gives Seungcheol an inquisitive look and a contented grin. Maybe Seungcheol’s imaging it, but he would swear Jihoon’s cheeks are turning pinker and his eyes are glazing over the more thrilled Seungcheol is getting. It’s almost as if he’s mirroring Seungcheol’s emotions as he scents them.

“I can smell you Cheol, there’s excitement there but—why are you scared of me?” Jihoon whispers, interrupting Seungcheol’s thoughts. “I just-“

Seungcheol holds up a hand up to cut Jihoon off. “I’m not afraid Jihoon.”

Jihoon looks at him doubtfully, and Seungcheol sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. He shuts his eyes and laughs shakily. “I’m not afraid of _you_. I’m scared of myself. Of what I could do to you.”

Jihoon nods, slowly. He looks so defenceless, sitting there with his hair falling in his eyes, one hand holding the bed sheet against his chest. Seungcheol can’t imagine hurting him, inflicting any pain, when Jihoon so purely  _wants him_. Even now, Jihoon looks as though he’s a heartbeat away from closing the distance between them and flinging himself at Seungcheol’s lap, begging for the pardoning touch of Seungcheol’s hand.

He forces himself to keep his voice level as he says, “Jihoon—I’m not sure what I’m doing and I’m afraid of hurting you.”

A pink flush spreads over Jihoon’s cheeks; it gives Seungcheol hope.

“I’m not afraid. You could never hurt me Seungcheol, you make me feel so safe. Safer than I’ve ever felt my whole life.” Jihoon whispers.

Seungcheol feels a soft tail slide up his arm, wrap around his bicep and squeeze, once, gentle but firm. There was nothing else but that touch, a lingering warmth Seungcheol feels all the way down to his bones, and just like that, his breathing slows and his mind clears. “I can’t smell properly when I get this excited—so I don’t know what you’re feel-“

His words die off as Seungcheol wraps his hand around the back of his neck. A rush of sense-memory hits Seungcheol at the feel of Jihoon’s sweat-damp skin, the taut line of his neck. He lets his hand rest there for a moment before pulling gently, a firm insistent pressure, urging Jihoon forward onto his lap.

The bed sheet drapes around his waist, baring a flash of Jihoon’s pale stomach and Seungcheol splays his hand there, warm and possessive. "Jihoon, I-" Seungcheol swallows, bumps his nose against Jihoon's cheek. His heart pounds a bit faster, because it's still hard to lay himself open. After so many weeks of never believing it could happen, it's hard to truly trust in it, even when "it" is naked in his bed, on his lap, wrapped in his arms.

Seungcheol feels Jihoon’s hand skim over his collar, cool against the frustrated heat of his skin. “I want you so much. But if you don’t want me, it’s okay—I can just be your pet.” Cool fingertips cup his cheek, and he sighs when Jihoon leans over and kisses him, just a chaste press of his lips against the corner of his mouth.

There’s a moment where Seungcheol is simply suspended over Jihoon, not kissing him back so much as sharing breath with him. This close Seungcheol can see every single eyelash fanned out over the top of Jihoon’s flushed cheeks, every quiver of his lips and delicate twitch of his nose. Jihoon blinks at him in the dim light, startled but calm, lips parted just slightly in anticipation of Seungcheol’s next move.

He’s got a lovely mouth, soft and pink, beautifully shaped. Seungcheol has got plans for that mouth. He takes Jihoon’s chin in a strong grip, nudging his nose against his, close enough to feel the little rush of air from between Jihoon’s lips. “You’re such a good kitten, but just being my pet is not an option.” he grins, and catches Jihoon’s mouth as it falls open on a mewl.

Jihoon latches onto the kiss immediately. He’s pliant but not passive, soft wet lips clinging to Seungcheol’s, yielding eagerly to Seungcheol’s tongue and teeth. They've never quite gotten around to kissing, not properly, and Seungcheol can't help but groan into it, sucking at Jihoon’s plush lower lip.

It’s a kiss much like the one they shared in this bed not very long ago, careful and slow and a little bit terrifying. Except this time Jihoon isn’t asleep; Seungcheol’s not holding his breath, waiting for Jihoon to wake up and shove him away. This time Jihoon slides his arms around Seungcheol’s neck and holds on, and Seungcheol holds him in his arms and kisses him like he belongs to him.

_He does belong to me._

One of Seungcheol’s hands finds its way into Jihoon’s hair, cradling the curve of his skull, fingers twisting up in his soft curls. He tugs firmly, tilting Jihoon’s head for a better angle, and Jihoon’s breath hitches audibly in his throat. He can feel a vibration as he sweeps a tongue along the seam of Jihoon’s soft lips and he realizes—Jihoon, is in fact, purring loudly.

When they break off, Seungcheol exhales, finally, slow and measured. Victory surges through him, a heady rush, flushing hot under his skin. “Fuck—I need to mate you so badly.” He whispers breathlessly.

“You— _really?”_ Jihoon chokes in surprise, which Seungcheol finds amusing, considering he is the one who stripped his clothing and lay naked under the sheets first.

Seungcheol smiles and slides the back of his knuckles down Jihoon’s cheek. He doesn’t quite smile back, the look in his eyes pensive and softly affectionate. “Yeah—“ He drawls, “Isn’t that-what we’ve been dancing around this whole time? Isn’t that why you’re naked in my bed?”

Jihoon worries his lower lip, eyes averted, fingers twisting anxiously in the fabric draped around his hips. He’s clearly fumbling for the right answer, so Seungcheol firms his voice, just enough to give Jihoon something to hold onto. “I want to mate with you Jihoon, but we don’t have to.”

“No—I do!” Jihoon blurts out in a rush, meeting Seungcheol’s eyes for a moment before quickly dropping his gaze. “I just thought that, you know—you wanted to have sex with me. I could never have hoped for anything like mating. I—“ he pauses, then lifts his eyes back to Seungcheol. “That almost never happens. No hybrids ever _that_ lucky.”

Seungcheol doesn’t know how to respond to that, his mind whirring and failing to catch up. “Jihoon—baby. I thought mating and sex was the same thing. I don’t usually go around having sex with people I don’t like so—you’re going to have to explain the difference to me.”

Jihoon shrugs, a surprisingly graceless jerk of his shoulders. “Oh, well, for hybrids—sex is just sex. You just have sex with me when you feel like it. Mating is—it’s like a relationship. We only have sex with each other and—you like me a lot and don’t like other people in the same way.” He glances up to see Seungcheol’s reaction, wary and vulnerable and  _hopeful_ , and Seungcheol feels something vital crack open in his chest.

Like water flooding his lungs, a sudden rush of longing fills Seungcheol’s chest, overwhelming and uncontrollable. “I like the sound of that. That’s what I want Jihoonie.”

Jihoon flushes beautifully and tips his head down, his shy grin becoming brighter, wider. And then he nods, quick and jerky.

Seungcheol holds out a hand toward Jihoon, barely able to keep it from shaking. His breath catches in his throat as he wraps his fingers around the cotton bedsheet and tugs on it lightly. Inch by inch the sheets slips off to reveal Jihoon’s naked lower half. Seungcheol has seen and touched nearly every part of him, but never gotten to  _look_  quite like this.

Seungcheol strokes him, a gentle brush of fingers down the line of his cock, and Jihoon mewls, hips jerking into the touch. His cock is still soft, warm and smooth in Seungcheol’s hand, and he tips his head back and exposes his throat when Seungcheol’s cups him and squeezes gently.  

He can feel every last tremor in that slim body when his fingertips brush the tender insides of thighs, hearing the swift-sharp gasp when he slides the foreskin back, making him shudder until the hybrid’s nipples harden in the cool room and his cock twitches in Seungcheol’s palm.

“You’re so beautiful Kitten. You don’t know what you do to me.” Seungcheol breathes into his neck, skimming a hand across his chest. Curiously, he thumbs a nipple, and Jihoon makes a delicious little cut-off sound,  _ah!_ , which is all the encouragement Seungcheol needs to lower his head and catch the hard little bud between his teeth.

Jihoon makes a soft, pained mewl, breathing hard through his nose as Seungcheol teases it with his tongue briefly, before releasing it. Seungcheol trails his fingers down Jihoon's back, over his ass, and traces one around his hole until Jihoon convulses and meows, rocking back against it.

“Cheol—please.” Jihoon pants shallowly, tail thumping against the bed behind him in excitement.

Seungcheol suddenly feels ten pounds lighter, a warmth spreading like slow sunlight just beneath his skin. He bites his lower lip as he watches a pearl of pre-come leak out of the tip of Jihoon’s slit and smear against his belly. He relishes the feel of the satin skin under his palm as he pets the hybrid with gentle, teasing caresses. He can hear the frustration in Jihoon’s meows as he is forced to sit there and wait while Seungcheol enjoys the sight of his trembling body and leaking cock.

Smoothing the back of his knuckles over Jihoon’s taut stomach, he resists the urge to grin like an idiot when the hybrid purrs and tries to arch his hips up to that touch.

“Cheol—why—why are you teasing me?” Jihoon whines as Seungcheol neglects his cock completely, to stroke along his quivering abdomen once more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Kitten, how is this teasing?” Seungcheol _teases_ , cheeks aching with the effort of repressing his dimples. He lets his thumb skim lightly over the tip of the erection, watching in fascination as another pearlescent bead forms at the slit and drips down.

Jihoon blinks once, slowly, lips quivering into a pout. “You _are_ teasing me—after I waited for you for so long.” He whimpers, _almost sobs_ , pushing Seungcheol’s hand away, scrambling off his lap and clamping his legs shut.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Oh fuck, fuck—I’m sorry, sorry kitten.” He chases after Jihoon, tackling him onto the bed and pining his wrists to the mattress. Seungcheol’s knees slide against his bare skin where they’re braced on either side of him. “Shhh—it’s okay—shhh—Kitten, I’m sorry. Fuck—I didn’t mean it.” Seungcheol shushes him then, seals their mouths together in a careful kiss that lasts only as long as they have to breathe.

When they break off, Jihoon slaps him with his tail. “You’re a jerk Seungcheol.” Jihoon says, panting and attempting to frown. But he’s gone completely loose underneath Seungcheol, his tail wrapped firmly around Seungcheol’s thigh.

“You’re right, I’m a jerk, a complete and utter dick.” Seungcheol murmurs, pressing a kiss to the pale shoulder, nuzzling into the side of Jihoon’s neck, smelling him openly now. “I _was_ teasing and I’m sorry.“ He adds, skimming his lips over Jihoon’s cheeks, keeping his tone as light as possible while his hands pin Jihoon down to the bed. He presses two harsh, reverent kisses to Jihoon’s face, one at the curve where cheekbone meets jaw, the second on the fan of his lashes over his flickered shut eyes, the whole time whispering apologies.

Jihoon closes his eyes and leans into the touch, already giving in. “I’m sorry—you’re not a jerk, I didn’t mean to say that. You’re really nice.” He whispers, throwing Seungcheol a coy look from beneath his lashes.

“No, you were right the first time—I’m a jerk.” He pants, laughing, ebullient as he brushes his lips against Jihoon’s forehead. “I was just enjoying looking at you so much, but I promise no more teasing.” Seungcheol whispers.

He kisses Jihoon again, a slow, careful slide of his lips, earning a startled inhaled breath from Jihoon.  The kiss stays gentle for several long moments, barely-opened mouths push-pulling as they learn the feel of each other. Seungcheol can feel the way Jihoon’s breath grows shallow, the way his tail curls and loosens around Seungcheol’s thigh almost on instinct.

Careful doesn’t last for long, though, as they slot their mouths back together, slick and sweet, tongues stroking over each other on frenzied breaths. Seungcheol’s pulls at Jihoon’s lower lip with his teeth just to hear him moan and Jihoon arches up against him, hands still pinned to the sides.

Seungcheol breaks away, pulls back slightly and gives Jihoon a tiny, rueful smile. “Jihoon, I want you to know—I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m not a virgin— _obviously_ , but I’ve never,” he pauses, mulling over his words, “—I don’t know how to have sex with hybrids is what I mean.”

He feels Jihoon’s giggle against his neck, the small nudge of his nose against the edge of his jaw. “Liar, I know you’ve been watching videos and researching it.” he breathes against Seungcheol’s skin.

Seungcheol lifts his head and gives Jihoon a tired, lopsided grin. “Okay, you got me there. But watching a few videos, reading a dozen research articles and jerking off in the shower thinking of you, doesn’t exactly make me an expert on the topic.”

Jihoon gives him a look that is surprised and guarded. Seungcheol wonders if he should backpedal, or apologize, or something, but then Jihoon beams up at him and says, “You thought of me while touching yourself? That’s kinda sweet.”

“Can you pretend I didn’t say that?” Seungcheol chokes his laughter out, turning red in the face. He leans his forehead against Jihoon’s temple. “What I’m trying to say is—I can wing it, but if I do something totally unacceptable and insulting to hybrids—it’s not intentional, okay?”

Jihoon nips sharply at his lip and Seungcheol presses forward, caging Jihoon’s body with both arms on either side of the bed. Seungcheol’s breathing deepens, they’re both panting now as he nudges their noses together, and whispers , “If it’s too much, if you want to stop—I need you to tell me.”

Jihoon shakes his head, curls falling across his forehead. “But I-” he starts, voice wrecked already. Speaking is clearly an effort at this point, but he swallows and tries again. “I can handle it if it means you can mate me.”

He sighs, nuzzling up under Seungcheol’s neck, snuffling lightly. “I know you’re big. I  _know_  that it’s going to hurt, but I want you inside of me.” Jihoon assures, tail flicking against Seungcheol's cheek, and Seungcheol grins at the gesture and the reassurance behind it.

Seungcheol doesn’t want to talk anymore, partly because Jihoon’s confession is enough for him, even if Jihoon’s a hybrid and is technically a virgin. He knows what sex is, he knows what to expect, but somehow this all feels new and he’s suddenly  _starving_  for release, countless jerk-off sessions not-withstanding, and with Jihoon’s weight under him and his scent surrounding him, Seungcheol can only take so much.

“I can do that.” Seungcheol breathes just before he leans down and licks slowly into Jihoon’s mouth, wet, edging into filthy, loving the way Jihoon shudders and clings to him more tightly. They kiss like that for several long, lazy minutes, Seungcheol caging Jihoon against the mattress and Jihoon making no move to free himself of Seungcheol’s hold. Their hips don’t connect, but Seungcheol can feel the heat coming off Jihoon’s body, can sense the faint shift in tension between them.

He pushes the bedsheet the rest of the way off Jihoon until it’s pooled on the side. He wraps both hands around Jihoon’s waist to hold him still as he leans down to place warm, damp kisses across his skin, tongue dipping down into hybrid’s bellybutton, making him gasp.

He feels Jihoon’s tail snaking across his back and neck and he automatically reaches for it, catching the furry appendage and bringing it to his lips. Jihoon moans as he ruffles the fur with his thumb gently before dropping a chaste kiss on the tip. Jihoon moans again, the fur on his tail fluffing out, his arousal jerking against Seungcheol's stomach, so Seungcheol does it again, adding a little nip before pulling the velvety appendage into his mouth and sucking on the tip softly.

“Seung—cheollaaaahhh!” Jihoon screams, tail jerking back and forth in Seungcheol’s grip vainly as it is sucked.

Seungcheol pulls back to examine the small hybrid, he’s panting heavily, pupils mere slits surrounded by amber irises. “Are—did I hurt you?”

Jihoon curls his hands into the soft cotton of Seungcheol’s T shirt, “No—you’re just _killing_ me with this torture.” He whispers-hisses. “My tail is sss—sentitive Cheol, it feels too good, it’s too much.”

“Really?” Seungcheol muses, before grinning wickedly and wrapping his lips around the appendage once more.

Jihoon writhes and bucks and groans as Seungcheol strokes and sucks his tail, occasionally adding another nip with his lips or teeth. Jihoon’s groans finally, finally rumble into a full-fledged purr, and Seungcheol smiles at the throaty, seductive sound.

“Stop! _Ple—please_. Cheol, I’m so wet.” Jihoon whimpers, grasping Seungcheol’s hand where it's brushing his stomach and dragging it down between his legs, past his cock to his opening. It’s wet, slippery and hot. It's a pleasant surprise, even if Seungcheol has researched and read about it: self-lubrication in feline hybrid species.

Seungcheol’s eyes glaze over. “Oh fuck— _that’s hot_.”

A soft purr vibrates against Seungcheol’s ear. “I’m wet for you all the time Seungcheol.” Jihoon whimpers, parting his legs for Seungcheol to see the effect he is having on his body. The bed sheet underneath him is soaked, and Seungcheol’s eyes follow the slick trail up the inside of Jihoon’s thighs, where he can see the faint shimmer of hybrid lube slickening his asshole.

Seungcheol bites his lip to muffle a groan, one hand splays over the dip of Jihoon’s waist before sliding lower. He wraps his hand around Jihoon’s knee and gently lifts his left leg, until he is able to slip his thigh underneath and spread him open to examine him. As if on cue, Jihoon lifts his knees up and holds himself open for Seungcheol to stare his fill at his pink slick hole.

He reaches up, touches the skin there, holding his breath as Jihoon closes his eyes and moans. “Yes—there—please.”

“So wet Kitten, so hot— _all for me.”_ Seungcheol makes a low, growling sound, scrapes his teeth over a tendon in Jihoon’s neck.  “You look good enough to eat.” he whispers hoarsely into Jihoon’s ear, palming his hand over his clothed cock, already hard and leaking in his pants.

Jihoon’s fingers grip his shoulders then, pushing him back a little. “Take this off.” He breathes against Seungcheol’s mouth, hands tugging at his t-shirt, frantic and inelegant.

Seungcheol can’t argue, not when he’s hard and Jihoon’s hard against him, licking up his throat and easing one graceful hand down the front of Seungcheol’s pants. “I’ve never thought I wanted this before,” Jihoon whispers. “I’ve had two other owners and I never felt anything for them, but I got so excited around you and I started feeling things down there. I started thinking about things we could do, what you could do to me if you wanted to. It made me really happy.”

_Two other owners?_

If the unexpected confession through him off-kilter, then the sudden fierceness of Jihoon pressing against him once more to kiss him breathless leaves Seungcheol reeling. It’s not a gentle kiss at all; it’s all teeth and heat and Jihoon meowling Seungcheol’s name over and over as he pulls at Seungcheol’s clothes.

“Hold up Kitten—take it easy, I’m not planning on staying dressed for this, you don’t need to rip anything off.” Seungcheol chuckles.

Jihoon frowns, familiar little lines appearing between his eyebrows. “I’ve been naked for ages! Why are you still wearing clothes?” he says, with such unique petulance that Seungcheol has to hide a smile. “Now Cheol! Get naked now!” Jihoon whines, tail bristling and snapping behind him. He meows once and sinks his teeth into Seungcheol’s bottom lip before shoving him off.

Seungcheol blinks, but the determined gaze in Jihoon’s eyes has him scrambling to comply. He stands up and pulls the t-shirt over his head, letting it float off the side of the bed. “Listen kitten, nothing says we have to do everything tonight. We can take it sl-“

He pauses as Jihoon rolls onto his knees on the bed, crawling across the sheets with feline grace, until he’s kneeling between Seungcheol’s legs. Seungcheol holds his breath as Jihoon reaches up, splays a warm palm over his chest and tugs one-handed at the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing it back as he takes a peek at Seungcheol’s dick.

“-slow if you want to.“ Seungcheol continues nervously.

Jihoon lets the waistband snap back in place before slowly lifting his head to lock eyes with Seungcheol. “Wow— _it’s big.”_ Jihoon whispers in awe.

Seungcheol barely suppresses a grin at the praise “Ahh— _thanks.”_

If Jihoon is entertaining thoughts of regret, he doesn't let them show. Seungcheol can’t sense any hesitation when Jihoon is biting his lip, moving onto his back, parting his legs and nodding with a submissiveness that makes Seungcheol's knees feel watery. “Seungcheol,” he purrs, and he doesn't sound frustrated or embarrassed or anything but certain. “C'mere.”

Seungcheol allows himself a minute just to look, drinking in the sight of Jihoon laid out in his bed—exactly the way he’s fantasized. He licks his lips, mouth already wet. Christ, he’s waited so long for this. He wants to do so many things to the hybrid, wants to take him apart and rattle his bones and make him scream, and he will, in time.

Seeing Jihoon like this, pale and exposed and inviting against the sheets, he knows exactly where he’s going to start.

He doesn’t waste any more time, he shoves off his sweats and climbs on the bed, mattress dipping beneath his knees. Jihoon’s eyes run over him, darting from his shoulders to his thighs, his muscles, his lips, his cock, as if he can’t decide where he wants to look. 

He settles between Jihoon’s obligingly spread legs, nudging them open a bit wider, stroking over the insides of his knees, thighs, bending to lick the head of his cock, the peak of a nipple, the curve of his lips.

Jihoon's eyes are squeezed shut, hips rolling up instinctively to chase the touch, and the sounds coming from him are beautifully filthy. “Hmmm—Cheol. Please, please, please Cheollie.” He murmurs, lifting his tail out of the way, displaying himself. He chokes down a purr as Seungcheol’s fingers trace across his slick entrance. Seungcheol’s cock twitches painfully, he bites his lip, his instincts singing, his body telling him exactly what it wants.

Seungcheol grins and leans back, fisting his cock quickly. It’s erect and flushed red, and Jihoon spreads his legs for it, tail snaking out to wrap around the thick bulk of Seungcheol’s thigh.”

“Oh—hold on.” Seungcheol says. He pulls back and tries to ignore the heart-breaking little meows Jihoon makes as Seungcheol moves away to fish out the box of condoms from the bedside table, tossing them on the bed.

When he leans back over again—he freezes, studying the way Jihoon is responding to the condoms. The hybrid’s ears are sticking out of his hair, his tail is furled defensively, bristling with irritation. He’s eyeing the condoms like he might consider setting them on fire if Seungcheol tries to use them.

"Sorry, force of habit. But we don't have to use them kitten if you don’t w—" He pauses as Jihoon looks at him, a quick flit of dark eyelashes.

Jihoon exhales harshly, looking frustrated, before helpfully flicking his tail against the box, sending it flying off the bed. Seungcheol raises an eyebrow and grins at him, predatory and delighted, "That settles that I guess."

Jihoon’s gaze softens a little. “Cheol—don’t keep me waiting.” He hisses.

Seungcheol complies, settling next to him and lifting Jihoon’s legs over his shoulders. Despite the self-lubrication, Jihoon will need prep; not that Seungcheol needs many excuses to feel him around his fingers. He feels his  _own_  body rush with heat at the way Jihoon arches and meows as he circles a hastily slicked fingertip against the hybrids entrance.

“Jesus, _you’re tight!”_ Seungcheol hisses softly as the first slicked finger sinks in; Jihoon’s body yields easily to the steady push. Seungcheol rotates his finger, learning the feel of Jihoon, his soft pliant heat and the vice grip of that first ring of muscle. He pulls out almost entirely, teases the rim with his fingertip before pushing back in. Then out—then in again, familiarizing Jihoon with the rhythm.

“Yes— _hnnn—more_.” Jihoon gasps, shoving his hips up as he whimpers again and  _shudders_.

Seungcheol adds a second finger slowly—so slowly—watching Jihoon the whole time with wide, dark eyes. Jihoon is panting for breath, legs shaking, like it’s taking everything in him to take in a mere two digits. "Hnnn—yesss— _ahhhnnn!"_ Jihoon hisses, teeth clenched tight along with the rest of him.

Seungcheol rubs his cheek against the knee thrown over his shoulder, turns his head to scrape his teeth over the bone. “You’re doing so well kitten, so good, just relax,” he murmurs, low and persuasive. “Let me in.”

He crooks his fingers, searching out Jihoon’s prostate, and knows he’s found it when Jihoon’s whole body jerks like he’s been shot.

Jihoon’s a portrait of lost inhibitions, with his legs bent up to his chest and Seungcheol's fingers pushing inside him, rubbing gently against that sweet spot. Seungcheol’s deliberately slow about drawing them out, and pushing them in again, watching the way his cock measures against Jihoon’s opening. For one crazy, insane moment, Seungcheol worries if his dick will even fit, but then Jihoon wriggles down on his fingers, rolling his hips in time with the motions and moans for more.

“Does that feel good? Can you take a third?” Seungcheol asks, searching Jihoon's face for confirmation. 

On the bed, Jihoon's head lolls in a lazy nod. He adjusts himself to a slightly different angle and now Seungcheol can see Jihoon’s hole spasm over every knuckle, as his third finger slides in.

The third finger is a tighter fit. Seungcheol strokes the rim with his thumb and sucks on the sensitive skin over Jihoon’s collar to distract him from the burn. Jihoon’s thighs tighten against Seungcheol’s shoulders; he’s shaking dangerously now, legs tensed so tight he must be cramping terribly.

“You want me to stop?—I can stop.” Seungcheol asks, his voice sounds too rough and desperate to his own ears for it to sound genuine.

Jihoon moans brokenly, face turned into the sheets. His hole is quivering around Seungcheol’s fingers, clamping down hard at the slightest push or twist. Seungcheol’s already starting to ease his fingers out when Jihoon finally gathers enough control to spit out, “Fuck me. Fuck me, please, fuck me,  _fuck me_  – “

“Fuck—yes.” Seungcheol growls as he leans down to lick possessively into Jihoon’s mouth. Pushing his fingers back in, twisting them just so, making Jihoon moan and arch off the bed once again.

Jihoon whimpers, drifting a hand down between his legs. He trails his thumb through the mess leaking all over his cock, making obscenely pretty noises as Seungcheol finger-fucks him, opening him wide.

 “Okay, okay, I’m ready, please. _“_ Jihoon whimpers.

“Yes—okay—fuck.” Seungcheol groans, pulling his fingers free, stroking the residual slick on his hand over his cock a few times.

Jihoon flips over onto his hands and knees, mewling plaintively, his tail lifting out of the way in silent supplication. The scent of his arousal hits Seungcheol like an ocean wave and some hot and feral thing unfurls in Seungcheol’s chest. He’s on Jihoon in a moment, pinning his arms to the bed and snuffling against his neck, rocking his erection up against the curve of Jihoon's ass, palming up the taut-drawn planes of his stomach. Static fills his ears, blotting out the rest of the world until there's nothing left but the heat of Jihoon's body beneath his hands.

The silky fur of Jihoon’s tail brushes his cheek, and Seungcheol wraps the appendage around his knuckles, lifting it out of the way. Jihoon meows pleadingly, but Seungcheol doesn't even hear it, his eyes caught on the glistening pink pucker hidden beneath the curve of his tail.

“Okay—okay, going with my instincts—just gonna stick my dick in _here?_ —“ He doesn’t mean for his voice to lilt into a question. He rubs the head of his cock through the slickness at Jihoon’s entrance, pressing insistently against his sweet pucker. The little entrance quivers beneath his touch and a deep purr vibrates through Jihoon’s chest. He kneads the bed with all four limbs in reply, thighs splayed wide and hindquarters raised, offering himself with a mewl.

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Seungcheol rumbles, twining his fingers around Jihoon's tail, pushing in just enough to feel Jihoon's body contract around him helplessly and a gasp push out of his throat, trying to take him  _in_.

Even after three fingers—Jihoon is breathtakingly tight. Seungcheol is aching to thrust straight in, to devour him, but he can’t, he won’t—not without knowing whether Jihoon can take it. He’s still largely unfamiliar with the hybrids body, has yet to learn its limits and tricks, and he won’t risk causing real damage.

For now, he errs on the side of caution, easing himself inside in maddening little increments. Jihoon meows, whether it’s in frustration or ache—or both, Seungcheol can’t tell. He tries to soothe the hybrid as coherently as he can. "Shh, I’m sorry, I  _know_ , just slow down for me. We'll get there, kitten, I promise. We'll get there."

The feeling of Jihoon around him is, exhilarating, foreign. He shifts against the bed, torn between grinding down and pulling away.

“Ch-cheol—please—more!” Jihoon groans and presses his hips up, like he’s trying to chase down every spare inch of space between them.

“F-fuck.” Seungcheol practically growls, before sinking into the velvet-wet heat of him, as deep as he can get. Seungcheol shuts his eyes and shakes out a sigh, steadying himself as he bottoms out. He rolls his hips in a tiny circle, teasing, and Jihoon whimpers, his tail twitching around Seungcheol’s knuckles.

Seungcheol pulls out halfway, painfully slowly, and then sinks back in. Again. Again. Each slide is just a bit smoother than the one before, Jihoon’s body slowly opening up to his carefully insistent thrusts.

It doesn’t take long before he’s worked up to a proper rhythm: sliding out until his cock head tugs at Jihoon’s rim, stretching him wide where their bodies meet, and then surging back inside, angling to just brush the sweet spot that makes Jihoon’s muscles lock up.

“Oh my  _god_ ,” Seungcheol moans out loud, squeezing his eyes shut.

Jihoon's fingers grip into the bed, and he throws his head back, crying out as Seungcheol ruts against him. His hipbones are sharp beneath Seungcheol’s fingers, and he grinds himself back with abandon, yowling loudly.

Seungcheol’s vision narrows down to one thing and one thing only. He can't do anything but watch the way his cock disappears into that tireless, lithe form over and over. Jihoon’s ass is so sweet around him, bearing down to meet his thrusts, clinging to the drag of his cock. Already, heat is building in Seungcheol’s balls, the centre of his stomach, the small of his back.

“ _Cheol—ahhh—cheol—cheol—cheol.”_ Jihoon moans, like it’s the only word he knows. Seungcheol picks up the pace, fucks him brutally, taking what he needs from Jihoon’s willing body. He’s so lost in it, in the rush and thrill of power, that he nearly doesn’t notice when Jihoon’s voice rises urgently, sharp with warning. “ _Cheol_  – hurts!“

Seungcheol’s hips shudder to an abrupt stop, fighting the instinct to fuck deeper, harder, faster. He manages to get his breathing under control, blinks away the haziness, and forces himself to think rationally. Jihoon is frozen beneath him, his breath comes in hitching mewls, shallow and pained.

“Oh fuck—I’m sorry,” Seungcheol says, swallowing hard against the tightness of his throat. “I’m so sorry kitten, sorry. I just lost control—I’m sorry baby.” He ducks his head to press his lips against Jihoon’s nape. “You all right? Do you want me to pull out?” he asks shakily, nudging his nose against Jihoon’s ear, breathing a sigh of relief as it twitches back to life and brushes against his cheek.

“No—don’t pull out. I’m okay.” Jihoon murmurs. He flexes his muscles around Seungcheol, lifts his hips just enough to make him groan. “Don’t stop please, just—slower?”

“Yes—of course, sorry.”

Seungcheol quickly fall backs into a natural rhythm, rocking steadily into the clench of Jihoon’s body. He was close himself when they stopped, and it’s not long before he feels the familiar tension coiling at the base of his spine, the backs of his thighs. He doesn’t even consider stopping this time. They’ve drawn this out long enough. He’s desperate to come, suddenly, overpowered by the feral urge to fill Jihoon with his come and leave him dripping with it, smelling of sex. Smelling of  _him_.

Seungcheol is telling him things, hardly noticing it, hopelessly mawkish things like  _you feel amazing_  and  _move for me, gorgeous_  and  _beautiful kitten_ , completely at odds with his actions. Jihoon doesn't respond except by thrusting his hips back and meowing, pulling him in on each thrust as if he can take him deeper still.

He reaches around and takes Jihoon’s cock in his hand, stroking it firmly with an encouraging twist of his wrist. Jihoon jerks and whines with each steady stroke, flinching away from the touch at the same time he shudders into it.

“Cheol—ahh— _cheol_ —I’m gonna,” Jihoon mewls, tail tightening around Seungcheol’s arm, and he does, hot come spurting against Seungcheol’s hand. He writhes helplessly under Seungcheol’s weight, arching against him with a feline howl of pleasure, struggling through each pulse and shudder.

Seungcheol is so shocked that Jihoon comes first, it sets him off like a charge. He drives hard into Jihoon’s body and stays there, riding out the waves of agonizing pleasure. He comes harder than he’s ever come in his life, and the orgasm feels as if it goes on forever, knocking the air from his lungs, furious and utterly devastating.

Jihoon screams when Seungcheol comes inside him, filling him. His scream breaks off into a moan as Seungcheol’s bites into the curve of his neck, sinking his teeth in, piercing flesh. Seungcheol doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he needs for Jihoon to feel loved, owned and  _wanted_ , all at once.

It takes all his energy not to simply collapse when it’s over. He sags down on his forearms, supporting just enough of his own weight to keep from crushing Jihoon. He shakes his head, trying to shake off the haze, and as things come back into focus, he gradually becomes aware of the heavy purr resonating from the small hybrid underneath him.

He finds he’s not quite ready to pull away just yet. In any event, Jihoon seems to like the bulk of Seungcheol’s body on top of him, the solid weight pinning him to the mattress, and his purr morphs into something downright filthy as Seungcheol sucks and licks the bite mark on his neck.

Seungcheol stretches over him languidly, enjoying the ache in his muscles and the feeling of his cock still buried inside Jihoon. “Are you okay kitten? Was that—good for you?”

“Yes, so good Cheol—so amazing. I feel so full.” Jihoon mumbles into the mattress. His tail unfurls from around Seungcheol’s arm to flop lazily from side to side. Seungcheol catches the furry appendage, caressing his thumb over the tip and kissing it affectionately.

Jihoon purrs approvingly, reaching up to traces his fingertips over the bite on his neck. He closes his eyes for a few moments, then snaps them open again, twisting his head around to look at Seungcheol behind him. “You bit my neck.” He whispers, voice used and scratchy.

“I know—I—I don’t know what came over me, I just,” He pauses, swallowing thickly. It was overwhelming. He could _smell Jihoon_ , every sensation pulsing down his spine. At the time, nothing registered but the rush of anxious desire, the need to touch, fuck and claim. “I just had to—I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay—I liked it-“ Jihoon cuts himself off and licks his lips with something that looks like frustration before something surprising and sweet, almost a smile, tugs at their corners. “It was— _really romantic.”_

Seungcheol lets out all the air in his lungs when he laughs in relief but still says, “I have so much to learn about hybrids.”

Jihoon meowls in pitiful protest as Seungcheol pulls out, tightening weakly round his withdrawing cock as if to keep him inside. Seungcheol shushes him, strokes his ears and whispers nonsense in them. He rolls off to the side, seemingly to give Jihoon more room to breathe, but the moment he hits the mattress he’s gathering Jihoon close against him, needing the physical contact nearly as much as he suspects Jihoon does. 

Jihoon is burrowing against him in a heartbeat, nuzzling up against his bared chest, purring his name worshipfully. “Cheol—cheol—cheol.”

Seungcheol buries his head into Jihoon’s hair and breathes him in, heart lifting with the rush of easy pleasure gained from being able to validly scent him. Lax with contentment, he lets his head loll back against the pillow, eyes at half-mast as he casts a furtive glance Jihoon-ward.

He slides his hand down Jihoon’s spine to settle at the small of his back, traces tiny circles on the soft, damp fur of his tail, enjoying the tickle of Jihoon’s ears as the twitch delicately under his nose.

He must fall asleep for a few minutes. When he opens his eyes, Jihoon is shifting sluggishly in his arms, hips twitching against him.  The slight slither of Jihoon’s tail sweeping invitingly across his chest is enough to set a tiny shiver rolling through him.

Seungcheol realizes with a hazy smile that Jihoon is hard again, and poking him in the side with his renewed erection. It takes him a moment longer to figure out that, he too—is hard again.

_What the fuck—it’s only been five minutes!_

Seungcheol isn’t quite quick enough to stem the tide of arousal that rolls through him, “Jihoonie-,” He begins to ask, then pauses as Jihoon twines his arms around his neck, kissing him softly. Large hands grip Jihoon’s waist in response, bedsheets rucking up slightly as they test each other without the fever of tension. What they find is sweet, and Jihoon urges him closer, moaning lightly into his mouth. The kiss transforms slowly, from little nipping presses, into something open and breathless.

Jihoon purrs against his lips, splaying his hand over Seungcheol’s abs and then sliding it lower, palming Seungcheol’s cock, stroking him once. Seungcheol breaks the kiss to groan, a short, shaky noise in the back of his throat. He clears his throat on a laugh as Jihoon strokes him again, more firmly this time.

Jihoon is breathing hard, half-lidded eyes staring at Seungcheol. “Wanna go again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ................FOR THE 7500 WORDS OF SMUT!  
>  1) I hope this was satisfying.  
> 2) I had may ideas for this--some I saved for later chapters.  
> 3) Enjoy!


	6. The Seven Stages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol needs answers.

There is something amazing about waking up to the scent of sex, the feel of a small tongue lapping his cheek and Jihoon’s soft, familiar purrs skimming over the top of his hair. Their legs are tangled together under the feather down comforter and Jihoon’s tail is brushing invitingly over his chest and neck.

“Good morning.” Jihoon purrs.

Seungcheol closes his eyes, feeling drowsy and content. “Morning beautiful.”

Jihoon purrs again, rough and low, then commences licking again. His face that is—Jihoon is licking Seungcheol’s face, pink tongue working in rough little strokes. Seungcheol could tease him, draw attention to what he’s doing, but he’s enjoying it far, far too much. Jihoon’s petting his hair and everything, waking him up in the nicest way possible, his own personal, living, purring alarm clock.

_I think— **think** —Jihoon is grooming me._

“All done,” Jihoon says, sitting up on the bed and not looking remotely phased. His tail is flopping from side to side and he’s staring at Seungcheol like he‘s a delectable treat. He seems to be barely restraining himself from lunging back into action and launching another lick-attack.

“Thanks.” Seungcheol chuckles, wiping his saliva-dampened cheek with the back of his hand. He sits up properly and stretches, shaking off muscle stiffness and the haze of sleep. “How are you feeling?”

“Great—better than great.” Jihoon purrs.

Seungcheol grins.“Good. Are you—uh—sore?”

Jihoon shrugs, a little lopsided. “A little, but it’s okay. You?”

“Uhm….”

On a particularly good night, Seungcheol can squeeze out three orgasms. That’s the maximum. The fact that he manages to take Jihoon **five** times, should be a little concerning—okay— _maybe a lot._ He had thought one fuck would be enough for both of them, so he didn’t plan on taking Jihoon again a mere ten minutes after they came. But the combination of Jihoon’s sweet scent, adrenaline and several weeks worth of tension collided in another perfect moment of sweat-slick skin and bare muscle. It was amazing, mind blowing sex and they collapsed on the sheets after, kissing lazily for a few minutes.

And that’s when Seungcheol realized that they were both still mostly hard, mind-melting orgasms be damned.

Are short refractory periods one of the perks of being a hybrid? _Perhaps._ That doesn’t explain why Seungcheol keeps getting hard too. It doesn’t explain how he manages to have more sex in one night then he has in the last 12 months. It doesn’t explain how, despite several rounds he’s not dead from over exertion and his dick hasn’t fallen off. _Or has it?_ A quick check under the covers reveals his dick is still there— _phew._

He doesn’t know what it is, but fucking Jihoon the first time was like unplugging a damn—a snowball effect—setting the ball in motion or _whatever_. Eventually after the fifth time (or was it the sixth?)—they passed out.

Seungcheol makes a mental note to fish out that geneticists’ business card and arrange a meeting. It wouldn’t hurt to find out more about what the hell is happening. Not that he’s complaining.

"Cheol." Jihoon purrs, sweeping his tail down Seungcheol's back and over the curve of his hip. He sounds bedroomy and wrecked. “I don’t want to alarm you—but it’s 8am.”

Seungcheol squints over at the digital alarm clock. " Ow-fuck!”

…………………..

The thing is: once he’s committed to a course of action, Seungcheol doesn’t like to waste time. He gets his receptionist to ring Wonwoo and arrange a meeting later in the week. Somewhere they can discuss the joys of hybrid genetics at length, but not formal enough for it to feel like a chore.

His receptionist obviously thinks he’s trying to woo Wonwoo or something, because she makes a reservation in a decidedly romantic and expensive restaurant and pats him on the shoulder supportively as he leaves work that evening.

He hopes Wonwoo isn’t thinking along the same lines or this was going to be really fucking awkward.

………………………

Wonwoo is waiting in the reception bar of the restaurant when Seungcheol arrives, looking like a stereotypical mad scientist with glasses too huge for his face, hair as though birds have been nesting in it and like he needed a very stiff drink, or five.

He greets him with a quick, tight smile, while Seungcheol confers with the waiter over their reservation. The waiter steers them over to an exclusive area of the restaurant, reserved for discretion—and romance—and Seungcheol signals discreetly but urgently with his left hand for fast service.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” Seungcheol says, taking a seat. “I hope I’m not taking too much time out of your schedule-playing god or whatever it is you geneticists do.”

Wonwoo barks a laugh. “Thank you for paying for dinner. I can’t afford to eat in a place like this on my own dime.” He says grimly, and plucks the menu out of the waiters hand before it can touch the table.

“Huh—I thought a geneticist’s salary would pay handsomely.” Seungcheol asks, genuinely curious.

Wonwoo glances at him, meeting his eyes for the briefest moment before turning his attention to his menu. “A human geneticist— _sure,_ one who researches human diseases and studies vectors and human nanobiology. Hybrid geneticists?— _Not so much_. I like to think the opinion on that is changing, but my parents still tell their friends I’m a glorified pet groomer. That’s less shameful, _apparently._ Four gruelling years of college, a lifetime of debt, a doctorate and-“

Seungcheol clears his throat pointedly and Wonwoo cuts himself off mid ramble, expression abashed, “Sorry—I didn’t mean to lay out my life story there.”

“It’s alright—my parents had high expectations too. My father was a lawyer and _kind_ of a dick. He wanted me to join his law firm, so I made a point of going into investment banking. His disappointment is _palpable.”_ He says, woefully, laughing at himself a bit.

Seungcheol takes a long, bracing drink of his wine. “I actually enjoy disappointing him—I go out of my way to do it now. Just for kicks.” He holds his glass out “To disappointment!”

“I’ll drink to that.” Wonwoo nods approvingly, picking up his own glass and chinking it with Seungcheol’s.

They have their first course, and then another, sipping their highly priced wine and drifting along on a leisurely, uncomplicated stream of conversation.

Wonwoo is, in fact, very good at his job and knows a lot about hybrid genealogy and species variations, which surprises Seungcheol not at all. But for somebody who couldn’t possibly be selling him anything—he talks about his job like he’s trying to sell Seungcheol something.

Wonwoo, Seungcheol has learned, is mostly specialized into two fields of genetics, molecular cloning and genetic modification. He is professional, but not unyielding. Young, but not inexperienced. Confident, but not smug. Seungcheol is learning a bunch of things he never thought existed in the realm of modern hybrid science.

“Do you know,” Wonwoo begins, then leans towards Seungcheol conspiratorially. His smile changing to a smirk, “the term hybrid—isn’t agreed upon by the scientific populace?”

Seungcheol can’t quite formulate the right glib answer to Wonwoo’s question. He smiles at Wonwoo blandly before digging into his salmon. “I did not. Why is that?” he tries, which seems to show enough enthusiasm for Wonwoo to rattle on.

“The term—Hybrid—suggests crossbreeding, the result of mixing two genetically distinct breeds or species. But most ‘Hybrids’ in the population are genetically engineered. They’re not offspring of previous hybrid generations so should not be considered a ‘Hybrid’ at all. It’s argued that the term ‘Hybrid’ should only be used on the offspring of two different species. For example, you would need a feline breed and a dog breed to mate—then _their_ offspring would be considered a hybrid.”

As Seungcheol eats, he wonders a little, “Then—why call them hybrids at all?”

Wonwoo leans in a little, his voice going lower, more confidential. “Catering to the masses. Hybrid is a relatively familiar term and by the time scientist began to argue its use—it was already too popular to retract.”

Seungcheol sits back in his chair, gaze wandering with detached curiosity over the other patrons, he lets Wonwoo refill his glass from the bottle sweating between them on the table. “But the word ‘hybrid’ makes sense. My Jihoon, for instance, is a hybrid of a male human and a cat, or kitten.”

Wonwoo shakes his head quickly. “Not quite. Another reason why modern day hybrids shouldn’t be called hybrids is because the genetic ratio is not 50/50.”

“Really?” Seungcheol can't quite keep the note of disbelief out of his voice. “So, what is the current ratio?”

“It varies for different breeds. But for perpetual kittens, it’s around 25% feline/75% human.” Wonwoo explains.

 _And 100% adorable._ Seungcheol doesn’t say.

“Woah. I had no idea, I just though you mixed DNA in a test tube and—voila.”

Wonwoo snickers under his breath. “Hmm—yes. Your theory of genetic processes is further evidence of why we use comfortable lay terms like hybrid.”

Seungcheol gets the distinct feeling he is being laughed at, however good-humoredly, and that just ratchets up his desire to learn more.  “ _Alright_ —so what does the _‘Scientific community’_ think they should be called?”

“Splicers. Which acknowledges the technique in which they are designed, because they aren’t crossbred. We pick specific traits and features, isolate the gene responsible for them and splice it into human DNA. That way we can achieve a happy, yet controlled balance of animal and human features and behaviours. If we left the process uncontrolled, the results would be— _hideous.”_

He lets that information sink in before continuing. “The first ‘hybrid’ was an even 50/50 ratio of canine and human, we called him Toby. He lived for all of five minutes before he was euthanized.”

Something that feels like a stone sinks in Seungcheol’s stomach. There’s something just a little bit fucked up about that. “Fuck. Why?”

“Uncontrolled genetic splicing resulted in internal organ failure that meant it was in constant agony and substantial skeletal frame deformities meant it would be unable to support its own weight as it grew. It was the humane thing to do.” Wonwoo assures, voice rough and low. He is visibly shaken, which is nearly as disconcerting as the information itself. “Each breed has a strictly controlled ratio now. Back then, scientific procedure was very lax. Imagine having no control over what features are canine and which are human. Take your perpetual kitten for instance. Would you still want him if he had fur all over his entire body?”

“Hmmm,” Seungcheol says, noncommittal, because it seems safer than,  _That sounds kinda hot actually!_

“Okay, let me give you another example.” Wonwoo says, slowly, the way one might speak to a small and fairly dim child. “Imagine if he had the head of a cat, but the body of a human? Cat paws instead of hands?”

Seungcheol tries to imagine it, but the picture is so surreal it refuses to take shape, staticky and blank. “You’re right, that does sound less cute.” Seungcheol agrees.

“So you see, it’s not crossbreeding like the term hybrid implies. It’s controlled splicing. We splice to make sure the desirable traits, like the fluffy tail, ears and purring are retained, while we tamper down on the less desirable traits like the shorter life spans and erratic breeding cycles.”

Which brings Seungcheol round to why they’re really here. It’s the perfect entry to the questions he’s been dying to ask all evening. And now that he has his chance, he doesn’t know how to breach the topic without sounding like a total pervert.

_Fuck._

Thankfully, Wonwoo paves the way. “So, Seungcheol, care to enlighten me as to what exactly it is I’m doing here? I doubt you’re that interested in genetics to let me ramble on for so long. I expect you’re having a problem with your _new-ish_ hybrid? I’m not surprised.”

“No—no problems.” Seungcheol says, feeling irrationally defensive.

Wonwoo glances up from his dinner and gives him an inscrutable look. “So you’ve invited me out and are paying for a three course dinner, just to talk?”

Seungcheol considers and discards a hundred opening statements, before finally his throat loosens enough to let him say: “Honestly, I _did_ want to learn more about hybrids. Perpetual kittens, specifically. I have a manual but, as you may know—they’re pretty vague when it comes to certain _things.”_

Wonwoo seems to be considering that for a moment, then sits back down and looks at him with an unbelievably insufferable smirk. “You mean—sex.” He shoots Seungcheol a pointed look.

Seungcheol is meant to be offended by that, he knows, but he finds himself grinning instead, startling a little answering smile out of Wonwoo. “Precisely.”

Wonwoo titters at him, almost fondly. Maybe condescendingly, Seungcheol can’t tell which. But there’s a spark in his voice now, a hint of playfulness at odds with his sedate professional demeanour. “You want to know how to have sex with your hybrid?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “No, actually—I’ve already crossed that bridge.” He admits. Five times to be exact, but Seungcheol isn't going to argue semantics with himself.

Wonwoo’s eyes widen a bit as he understands the unsaid levels of Seungcheol’s careful words. He takes a sip of his wine as if he was washing down something distasteful away, though Seungcheol notes with some satisfaction that he smiles into his glass on his next sip. “How did that go?” he asks, setting his glass down and drumming his fingers lightly against the side.

“Fantastic.” Seungcheol says winningly, swirling the wine in his glass. “Anyway—I’m still curious about other things. Sex isn’t the end goal here. I want to know how to care for him, properly. I have a list of questions.” He says, pulling out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and laying it flat on the table.

“Wow, you’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?” Wonwoo says after a moment of evaluation, and it’s not even really a question.

“Well—yeah. I’ve never been with anyone I physically own before. That’s a lot to handle. I feel guilty like 100% of the time. Even though Jihoon _has_ given me more than enough indication that he’s consenting, I’m starting to think that’s not all that’s at play here. I’m wondering if it’s built in—his submissiveness.” Seungcheol admits, frowning regretfully down at his dinner plate.

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow suspiciously, but he looks intrigued “Interesting—go on.”

There are a thousand other questions bubbling up inside him, but he goes with the simplest, and perhaps the one likeliest to get him a straight answer. “Well—for starters. What the fuck is up with that smell?”

Wonwoo shoots him an unimpressed look. “Hey, I showered before I came here! Do you know how hard it is to wash Lizard Hybrid vomit off?!”

Seungcheol tips his head back and laughs. “Not you! I’m talking about the hybrid smell. Jihoon has this— _smell._ I noticed it on the first day I had him. And when I breathed it in, I almost lost control of my senses.” Seungcheol explains. Wonwoo doesn't respond to that at all, so he continues. “I notice it’s more obvious in the evening and when we were doing it, it was everywhere. Is that like—a mating thing?”

“I think you just answered your own question.” Wonwoo says, just as confidently as he says everything else.

“Wait, it’s that simple?”

“It’s not simple at all. Not all hybrid species have it, but some have evolved that ability to scent emotions. They also have the ability to release certain scents based on their own emotions. Usually if they are quite content, the scent is pleasant and sweet. When they are aroused it is more obvious and heady. When they are angry—

“The stink the place out?” Seungcheol interjects.

“—No,” Wonwoo says, shaking his head emphatically. “You won’t be able to smell them at all. Their scent is blocked.”

Seungcheol nods considerately. “So—it’s a good thing that he smells so good? He’s happy?”

“Hmm.” Wonwoo hums non-committedly, tapping his fork on the table.

Seungcheol grips his glass a bit tighter. “What?”

“Hybrids only develop scents to warn off other hybrids. To let hybrids in the area know how they’re feeling. Whether it’s safe to approach of or not. It’s very rare for humans to be able to smell them.”

“Really?”

“I’ve worked around hybrids my whole career, I’ve never been able to scent one. However, I have come across a few research articles about it. Rare incidents of scenting in humans—it’s really interesting to hear about it first hand.”

Seungcheol’s not sure how he should feel about that, but he can’t find it in himself to be concerned. “Wow—so I’m super special?”

“Sure—unless,-“ Wonwoo pauses, leaning across the table and giving him this look- this probing, shrink-like look. “You’re secretly a hybrid?”

It takes Seungcheol a moment to register Wonwoo isn't joking, and then he racks his brain for a suitable witty rejoinder. “No—but I have been referred to as an animal in the sack and I’m hung like a horse.” he adds with a belated leer.

Wonwoo sighs heavily, “Your humility is inspiring,” he says dryly. The sarcasm is familiar, but it’s tempered with a fond, teasing warmth. “Please warn me next time you’re going to be vulgar. I’m trying to eat here.” he admonishes. “What’s your next question on the list?”

“Okay—you may wanna finish your dinner first.” Seungcheol chuckles.

Wonwoo grimaces and sets down his knife and fork. He wrinkles his nose pointedly and looks back at Seungcheol. “Okay, shoot.”

“So, what about refractory periods?” Seungcheol inquires, as casually as he can manage.

“Ohhhh—okay.” Wonwoo’s smirking mouth tugs to the side. “Yeah, that’s not a long term effect. Usually newly sexually active hybrids will demonstrate an increased stamina for sex and will want intercourse very frequently, at first. That will eventually subside and that behaviour will be retained during their heats. I suggest you get him a toy—to keep him satisfied when you can’t keep up.”

Seungcheol nods slowly. “Huh. _Okay_ , so my shortened refractory period will slow down first. Interesting.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen at that. “Wait—hold on? You’re telling me that you’re experiencing a heightened sexual drive too?”

“Uhh—yeah, so that’s not normal either?” he says, scratching the back of his neck, thrown for yet another loop. Wonwoo doesn't offer him any reassurances; he just looks at him like he's from outer space.

“Go on—elaborate.” Wonwoo says, pushing his plate to the side and leaning forward on his elbows. “I don’t want the gory details about your sex life, I just want the facts.” Wonwoo says, before Seungcheol can even begin to formulate an answer.

Seungcheol shrugs, unmoved by the fact that he has just overruled years of scientific precedent. “I just keep getting a stiffy—pretty quickly after I finish.”

Wonwoo stares at him. And then says, slowly “How quickly?”

“Approximately five minutes after coming. We did it like 5 times. I’ve never done it so many times in a row before. Not even in college.”

Wonwoo looks skeptical. Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, prepared to hold his ground. Wonwoo may be a probable genius with a staggeringly comprehensive grasp of genetics, but when it comes to the subject of Seungcheol’s dick and its propensity for erections, Seungcheol is a freaking  _Nobel laureate_.

 “My god!” Wonwoo exclaims, fishing a pen out of his shirt pocket and scrambling for a piece of paper, he settles on using the edge of his napkin. “Excuse me, I just need to make a note of this.”

They lapse into silence then, Wonwoo doodling on his napkin, Seungcheol occasionally answering questions about his medical history and family background. Seungcheol amuses himself by trying to sneak looks at Wonwoo’s notes, which is like trying to cheat at cards with the world’s most paranoid card sharp.

Somewhere in between the second course and dessert and detailing Wonwoo’s fifth draft of Seungcheol’s family tree, Wonwoo pauses. “Are you _sure_ you’re not a hybrid? Granted this discovery would be a lot less interesting, it would make a lot more sense.”

“Positive” Seungcheol affirms. “But hey—maybe I am and I was adopted or something? Guess we’ll never know, unless you test a sample of my blood or something.” He says offhandedly.

Wonwoo takes his eyes off the napkin he’s writing on, finally, to give Seungcheol a look of incredulity. “If you are willing to give a sample, I could—I could totally test your blood!” He practically yells, slamming the table excitedly.

Seungcheol feels all the air leaving his lungs. He stares at Wonwoo, waiting for the inevitable ‘but’- the punch line or the retraction. Wonwoo just stares back, wetting his lips with his tongue.

Seungcheol clears his throat. “You, uh... are serious?” he croaks out.

Wonwoo claps his hands together in delight. “Of course, this is fascinating. You have to appreciate how unique this is to somebody in my field. I can see it now; Jeon Wonwoo—Nobel prize in genetics. Chief consultant of Hyb/Labs, maybe even start up my own venture. I can just imagine the title of my first article in a respected, peer reviewed science magazine. ‘Sexual anomalies in--”

“Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself. It’s probably very common and people just don’t know any geneticists to report it to.” Seungcheol explains, lamely attempting to wrangle back some control over the conversation.

“That’s not the point! The point is—it’s not been documented. I may very well be the first.” Wonwoo says. He jumps to his feet, smoothes an imaginary wrinkle in his tie. “If we leave now—we can get to my lab before it shuts to draw the blood sample we’ll need.”

Seungcheol waves a hand, magnanimously conceding to the inevitable. “Chill—You’ll get your sample. Just sit down and finish your dinner.”

………………………..

Wonwoo leads him into a room at the back of the lab, which seems to be sort of the inner sanctum of the place. Wonwoo’s wipes down a whiteboard, then begins to transfer his notes from the napkin hurriedly.

“You’re very excited about this.” Seungcheol exclaims.

“Yes.” Wonwoo says, attention still mostly focused on the whiteboard.

Seungcheol squints at Wonwoo’s notes. Even if he had the same understanding of genetics and biology, Wonwoo’s handwriting is literally illegible. He tries to decipher the writing, tries to make sense of Wonwoo’s impenetrable shorthand, but he can’t make out anything beyond _‘HYBRID’_ and _‘HOMO’_ (which he assumes is short for homo-sapien and not a judgement) a few equations and scrawled molecular diagrams and, troublingly, several exclamation marks.

He leaves Wonwoo to his insane brainstorming for a moment to look around the lab. There’s a huge bank of complicated equipment alongside a row of television monitors, none of them turned on, which Seungcheol assumes must be hooked into the rooms where the hybrids are assessed. There’s a medical pop up bed on the side and a desk piled high with stacks of books, newspapers and magazines. There’s a small medical cart in the corner, under a window that looks out onto the main part of the lab. There is also Wonwoo’s computer, which is conveniently still open.

There’s a lot of words and figures on the screen _(maths—lame),_ a memo about disease vectors in hybrids _(Hybrids can get fleas?)_ and a diagram of a hybrid autopsy _(shudder)._ There is also a _MyJournal_ icon on the desktop screen _(Ohohohoho)._

Seungcheol’s not usually a nosey person but—guess what?— _he’s bored._ He double clicks the icon and opens up the last entry. He can’t make out any apparently enthralling details. Wonwoo’s inner thoughts and darkest secrets, probably, though he suspects that Wonwoo’s too dull to have thoughts that aren’t directly related with work or genetics. The guy is so scientifically invested he probably catalogues his emotions in a spreadsheet to keep track of them. The next entry is much the same, but the third entry is a picture of Wonwoo with what looks like a canine hybrid. Before he can get a good look at it Wonwoo clears his throat and taps him on the shoulder.

“It’s rude to pry.”

“What? I’m giving you a sample of my precious blood. What am I getting out of this?” Seungcheol reasons.

“Hopefully, some answers to your questions.” Wonwoo offers.

“Alright,” Seungcheol sighs, rolling up his sleeve. “Let’s get this over with shall we.”

Wonwoo gestures for Seungcheol to take a seat on the chair behind him as he rolls the cart closer. He pulls out a sterile needle pack, assembling is with practiced skill. Seungcheol sits down in his chair with a weary sigh, kicking his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle as Wonwoo sterilises an area of skin.

“Any other questions?” Wonwoo asks, as he inserts the needle into Seungcheol’s vein.

Seungcheol has no idea what he’s done with his list of questions in their rush to get to the lab, but the only other thing that puzzles him is: “Uhm—oh yeah. What about biting? I bit him. That seems to have had mixed reaction to be honest. He said he was okay with it and that it was romantic even, but it was an impulse. I had no control—just the urge to bite him. What was that?”

Wonwoo’s mouth opens. Nothing comes out. He closes it again, looking  _baffled_. Well, there’s a silver lining. Any turn of events that renders Wonwoo speechless is worthy of celebration. Seungcheol will have to relish the victory later, when he’s not having what looks like a pint of fucking blood drained from his arm.

Wonwoo studies Seungcheol for a long minute, the way one studies documents and records, impassive and clinical. “Hmm—that’s new to me.” He admits finally, although he keeps casting glances Seungcheol’s way between making notes. God knows what he’s doing if it’s not some rendering of Seungcheol’s face. Planning Seungcheol’s dissection, probably, or maybe just waiting for Seungcheol to sprout a pair of ears and a tail.

“Oh” Seungcheol shrugs his shoulders dismissively, “I guess it’s nothing.”

Instead of agreeing, though, Wonwoo sighs and looks away. He takes off his glasses, wipes them carefully with his shirt. “Look, Seungcheol…” he begins, and hesitates.  “I wouldn’t dismiss it that quickly just because I don’t have the answer. Considering everything else that’s happened to you—it’s probably relevant and worth documenting anyway. Male perpetual kittens don’t go into heat often—but that could be what’s happening and maybe your biochemistry is reacting to those changes.”

Seungcheol tilts his head thoughtfully, “I read about heat cycles briefly—I figured he must have gone in to heat already. That’s why we had all the sex.” he wonders out loud.

Wonwoo shakes his head, grim. “No. Heat is very distinguishable. It’s an intense period of mood swings, behaviour changes and lots of intercourse ,— _lots_ of intercourse.” Wonwoo repeats, deftly removing the IV line from Seungcheol's arm.

Seungcheol leers. “How much more sex are we talking about?”

The hint of a smirk flickers across Wonwoo’s sharp features “A lot more. Heat is an unquenchable thirst for unneutered hybrids. They want to mate or be mated continuously. It’s the only period of time when a hybrid actually desires sex.”

Seungcheol cocks his head, brow furrowing. “But, Jihoon was practically begging me the other day, so if he wants sex outside of heat—what does that mean?”

“I guess he’s just attracted to you.” Wonwoo offers. Seungcheol is still processing that (surprisingly delightful) information, when Wonwoo adds on, “You are an attractive man.”

Seungcheol offers him a tight smile. “Is that why you really want a sample of my blood? Are you going to clone yourself a copy of me and do stuff with it?” he deadpans, just to have something to say, hoping Wonwoo doesn’t notice that he’s starting to get a little flushed.

Wonwoo glares, yanking the needle out of Seungcheol arm. He pointedly turns away to shuffle noisily through the papers on his desk in a way that is no doubt meant to indicate how very little time he has for Seungcheol’s nonsense. “First of all, don’t flatter yourself. Your head is **so** huge I will obviously have to have the wall knocked in for you to be able to leave this room. Secondly—I’m a geneticist! I have a code of ethics that I adhere to. Not to mention the cloning process is not that simple—it doesn’t-“

Seungcheol can’t supress the eye roll. “Dude—it was a joke. Lighten up.”

Wonwoo sighs stormily and begins backing away the cannula before abruptly stopping. “Have you—have you considered the possibility of sterilisation?” he says hesitantly, obviously well-meaning but not really knowing how to approach this.

Seungcheol gives him what he hopes is a sufficiently withering look. “I haven’t considered it—and I refuse to. I just told you I’m sexually active with him, why the hell would I neuter him?”

Wonwoo nods, marking the blood sample he withdrew and placing it in the fridge. “You can still be sexually active with him even if he has been sterilised. He won’t enjoy it of course, but you still will. Lots of people take that option when they don’t want to manage heat cycles.”

Seungcheol feels a hot flash of anger on Jihoon's behalf. “It’s not an option—not for us.” He clucks his tongue reproachfully. “How bad can these heat cycles be that somebody would consider that as an option. Who is saying no to sex?”

“It’s not usually the sex element that puts people off. It’s the stages leading up to heat.” Wonwoo begins to explain. Just when he’s in danger of actually getting to the point, the lights dim. Wonwoo glances at his watch and winces. “The lab is shutting down for the night, we need to go.”

Seungcheol rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. He doesn’t know anything about the stages of hybrid heat cycles, not really. This apparently comes though loud and clear in his expression, because Wonwoo smiles leniently, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I appreciate it’s a lot of information to take in and since we don’t have the time to discuss it now, I can give you some books to refer to.” He disappears into his tiny office space behind his lab and emerges with an armful of books.

“This should help get you prepared for his first heat.” He says, handing the books over. “The first heat usually falls in the first two months after they become sexually active. It’s hard to be sure with perpetual kittens. These books cover the technical aspects but if you find them a tad waffly, Hyb/Labs have designed this condensed version to educate owners.” He explains, rifling through his desk and pulling out a pamphlet.

Seungcheol takes the pamphlet, folds it up and slips it into his jacket pocket before lifting the books. “Thanks Won. I owe you.”

“It’s Wonwoo!”

………………….

Seungcheol opens the front door to the house with one hand, juggling a bakery box and the reference books before hip-checking the door shut. He’d stopped by a patisserie to pick up treats for Jihoon, but Jihoon doesn't call out a greeting when Seungcheol walks over to the kitchen, which means that he must be asleep already. Seungcheol deposits the books on the coffee table, the cakes go straight in the fridge and he re-enters the hallway, flicking the light switch on before stopping short when his eyes fall on Jihoon standing there.

Every muscle in Seungcheol’s body seems to tighten at once. His skin feels like it’s on fire. Jihoon is wearing what can only be described as a leather holster top with silk sleeves and an amazingly tailored pair of short shorts that hug his ass and crotch in all the right ways. He is so fucking gorgeous Seungcheol can hardly believe he is real.

Seungcheol grasps for something to break the silence but he’s having trouble stringing together a coherent thought. “You—woah.” he says, clumsily offering the first thing that comes to mind.

Jihoon tilts his head over to the side and drags fingertips up the margin of his neck, stopping at his collar and tracing along its edges, purring. “Welcome home Seungcheollie.” He purrs.

“What are you wearing?” Seungcheol asks, having finally recovered his voice and the ability to blink.

“You don’t like it?” Jihoon mumbles. He has a pouty expression on his face, one which Seungcheol has grown accustomed to and fond of at this point.

“No—I like it.” He breathes more than whispers. _Like it?—_ like is the understatement of the universe in Seungcheol’s very biased opinion. Especially when his dick is straining against his pants. “Where—did you-“ he trails off, gawking, and makes an all-encompassing sort of gesture at Jihoon’s current ensemble.

“I bought it online, with the card you gave me.” Jihoon drops his eyes and chews at his lower lip, looking guilty, and something flips in Seungcheol's stomach. “You said I could buy something I liked and I’ll only wear it around the house.”  

“It’s—uhh—nice.” Seungcheol mumbles. The numb shock is starting to fade; it prickles and stings, like sensation seeping back into a deadened limb.

“Seungcheol—why are you so late home?” Jihoon says, his eyes flicking back up to Seungcheol with something that looks like it could be mischief. “I was waiting for you.” His voice is lower and sweeter and silkier than Seungcheol’s ever heard it. It sends a shiver through his entire body.

Seungcheol can’t easily lie to Jihoon, who has his schedule memorized by heart and knows Seungcheol was not at work. _‘I was discussing our sex life—for science!’_ , doesn’t seem like a legitimate enough reason.

“My boss died, I had to—stay late.” he whispers, blinking in shock at how deep and rusty his voice sounds. Seungcheol’s a terrible liar and an even worse actor, but thankfully Jihoon seems like he might be too aroused to notice his blatant bullshit.

“I hope it was worth it, because it seriously cut into our play time.” He says, slow and deliberate, every syllable loaded with promise. He drags his tail over Seungcheol’s chest and gives him a smouldering look over his shoulder that quite definitely stirs interest in Seungcheol’s trousers.

“I—I uhh—I’m sorry,” Seungcheol begins, somewhere between pleading and confessional, but Jihoon is already halfway down the corridor without another backward glance, and Seungcheol can only follow him, the way Jihoon _knows_ he will.

They don’t make it to the bedroom—they don’t even make it out of the _hallway_. Seungcheol fucks him against the wall, Jihoon’s legs wrapped around his waist, meowling in his ear, his leather holster shredded to pieces and dangling from his hips as Seungcheol breaches him.

Needless to say, Seungcheol never gets around to reading those books and he forgets all about the pamphlet in his jacket pocket.

……………………………………………………

_ The seven stages of heat in hybrids. A layman’s guide.  _

_Stage 1: Displaying._

_Your hybrid carries their tail in an unusual upright or one sided position, displaying their posterior. Subtle core temperature increases may mean they begin to wear less clothing. They will use this opportunity to display themselves to their potential mates._

Seungcheol comes home at a quarter to five. The entrance way is empty, silent _—unusual._

“Jihoonie?” he says, low enough that only someone listening for him might hear.

Jihoon meows in lieu of a greeting. Seungcheol walks slowly down the hall to the living room. The groceries are abandoned by the entrance to the house. A head of lettuce spills from one plastic bag, lying forlorn.

In the living room, Jihoon is flopped loose limbed in a box with his head tipped back, ears flat and elbows braced against the sides of the cardboard. Despite the small size of the box, he looks relaxed and if Seungcheol’s isn’t mistaken—completely naked.

Seungcheol doesn’t realize he’s staring until Jihoon shoots him a peevish look and says, “This is my box—find your own.”

 

Jihoon is defensive of his boxes. Seungcheol has no idea why; the few times a box was used to deliver their groceries, Jihoon was quick to call dibs on in. He spends an inordinate amount of time just sitting in boxes. Sometimes, if the box is large enough, he seals over the sides and has a nap, other times he jumps out of it unexpectedly and scares the shit out of Seungcheol. Seungcheol has never seen him try napping in a box quite as small as this one before, although Jihoon has been known to nap in the most unexpected and inconvenient of places.

1)      The wardrobe, because it’s 360 degrees of warmth and Seungcheol smell.

2)      The bathtub, because it’s nice and cool but don’t fucking dare turn the water on as a joke, he will scratch your eyes out.

3)      On top of the dryer, because it’s nice and warm and the vibrations help lull him to sleep.

4)      In freshly washed and dried piles of laundry, also because it’s warm and soft.

Random nap locations aside, Seungcheol thinks it’s a mark of their growing relationship that he doesn't even bat an eye at finding the hybrid naked in a box in his living room. “What are you doing kitten?” he asks.

“I’m sitting in a box.” Jihoon says, demonstrating his unparalleled talent for stating the obvious.

He scratches the top of his head thoughtfully. “Naked?”

“Seemed like the thing to do.” He looks sideways at Seungcheol, as if expecting him to kick up a fuss.

Seungcheol smiles in spite of himself. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Surprisingly—no.” Jihoon says with a wide-eyed sidelong glance. Seungcheol can swear there’s an undercurrent of something strange in Jihoon’s voice. He looks him over again, taking in the details he overlooked before: The sweat gleaming on his forehead, the bright red flush to his cheeks, the dark glaze to his eyes. His pupils pulse rapidly as Seungcheol holds his gaze.

A sudden chilliness draws Seungcheol’s attention to the open window, and the curtains flutter with a cold breeze. _It’s mid-February and the heat is off. How can he be so warm?_

Seungcheol crosses his arms. “Okay.” He says, drawing the word out, drumming his fingers on his bicep contemplatively. “How did you even get in that box? It looks tiny.” Seungcheol says, squinting at the scene in disbelief.

“If it fits—I sits.” Jihoon answers. “If you ask me—this box isn’t small enough. I prefer a smaller box. The smaller, the better.” He looks at Seungcheol and raises his eyebrows, as if daring Seungcheol to challenge him.

Seungcheol purses his lips, but retreats into the study and empties an even smaller carboard box of its contents and brings it into the living room. He places it on the floor next to Jihoon. “What about this one?”

Jihoon face brightens immediately at the sight of the smaller box, cheeks dimpling magnificently, ears pointing forward slightly and tail unfurling. Seungcheol laughs.

_Do hybrids always get so excited over such little things?_

Seungcheol watches as the hybrid levers himself out of the box gracefully, stretching out his muscles, wiggling his bare toes with a happy contended sigh. Seungcheol takes absolutely no prurient interest in Jihoon’s pale, bare chest, or the slope of his perfectly curved butt— _none at all_. Seungcheol’s not admiring his flexibility as he folds himself into the smaller box and eases himself down until he’s fully seated, legs tucked against his chest.

Jihoon doesn’t say, ‘Told you so,’ when he successfully settles himself in the box, but his smug smile implies it very heavily.

“Wow, you’re like some kind of —feline contortionist.” Seungcheol says, fighting back a smile of his own.

Jihoon let's out a sound that is a cross between a giggle and a snort, and Seungcheol can't help but chuckle along side him. “It’s still too big.”

……………………………

_Stage 2: Scent luring._

_Your hybrid will seek to imbue their scent widely around their territory to draw in a suitable mate._

Seungcheol’s accountant says his expenditure has increased by 20% in the last two months. Its unusually high for a bachelor, apparently. After a quick check of his banking statements he notices nothing unusual. He did just recently spend close to $3000 on custom hybrid clothing for Jihoon. It’s totally worth it in his opinion because Jihoon is a treasure and is so grateful to have pants specifically tailored so he can poke his little tail out of them.

Strangely, though, despite splashing cash on his wardrobe, it seems the only things Jihoon is interested in wearing are the occasional shirts from Seungcheol’s hamper, and that is probably only because he’s realized it’s a sure fire way to get his cock sucked.

Seungcheol loathes being predictable, but he can’t help the way his mouth goes wet at the sight of his clothes hanging off Jihoon’s lean frame. And why should he resist the urge? Seungcheol rather likes Jihoon’s cock and he’d hate to deprive Jihoon of his shirts.

He’s never minded Jihoon borrowing his shirts before. What he finds perplexing is, when he pulls out a freshly dry-cleaned suit for work, lays it neatly on the bed, heads into the shower and then comes out to find Jihoon rolling around on it.

It’d be impossible for Seungcheol’s eyebrows to get any higher. He stands gaping in the doorway, watching Jihoon twist and turn like an angry cat, his face scrunched up in concentration. He is shirtless, and Seungcheol tries very hard not to openly stare at the hollows on his collar bone or the dip of his waist.

_What the hell is he doing?_

Seungcheol tightens the towel around his waist and crosses his arms. He leans against the wardrobe whilst he’s waiting for Jihoon to stop doing—whatever the hell it is he’s doing, and takes the opportunity to admire the shape of Jihoon’s ass in those little shorts. There are worse things than having a cute, nearly-naked hybrid rubbing himself against his suit, he reflects – even if that hybrid is completely rumpling his attire for the day.

The small noises that are coming from Jihoon are a mixture between meowls and yips as he rubs and ruts against the clothing. He seems devoted to the task. He must be if he’s incredibly preoccupied not to have noticed Seungcheol exiting the bathroom. Seungcheol lets him go for a few minutes, watching him knead happily at the jacket as he rolls back and forth. “Look at you go,” He murmurs in wonder as Jihoon squirms against the shirt, flipping over again.

Jihoon looks up, eyes widening for a moment as he registers Seungcheol’s presence for the first time. Instantly, his cheeks bloom and his ears flatten against his hair, expression smoothing out into such naked  _humiliation_ that Seungcheol feels almost embarrassed, as though he’s walked in on something unspeakably private.

“You come back to earth yet?” Seungcheol finally teases. 

Jihoon catches himself after a moment and quickly turns his head down, schooling his features into a scowl that is not quite convincing enough to disguise the color rising in his cheeks. “You finished showering early.” He mumbles.

Seungcheol quirks a brow. “I ran out of hot water—didn’t realise you were keeping tabs on how long I showered for.” He chuckles.

They both fall silent. Jihoon’s tail flops back and forth along the bedspread restlessly, clearly determined to ignore Seungcheol until he leaves, and Seungcheol stands there awkwardly, torn between a vague sense of obligation to dress for work and the far more intuitive urge to find out what the hell Jihoon was doing.

He watches Jihoon in silence for a few minutes, fascinated by the way his cat-ears slowly relax, sitting forward naturally instead of pulled back tense and tight. Jihoon can’t control his ears and tail the same way he can his facial features, so it’s like having a secret window into how Jihoon is really feeling.

“What where you doing with my suit?” Seungcheol ventures finally, when the silence threatens to become actually physically uncomfortable.

Jihoon doesn’t look up, but shuts his eyes “Nothing.” he says shortly, more sharp than he probably means to be. The flush has now crept down his throat, pinking the delicate shells of his ears.

“Jihoonie,” Seungcheol drawls, deliberately cloying, and is briefly comforted by the scowly little furrow of Jihoon’s brow. “I’m not angry. I just wanna know why you were rolling all over my suit.” Those tiny ears shift, and Seungcheol wishes he was as versed in the body language of kittens as he is in the body language of humans.

"I don't know," Jihoon replies. His eyes are still closed, and now he is pouting a little, clearly puzzled by his own reason.

“So you just—felt like it?”

"Yeah.” Jihoon, whispers, cracking one eye open to look at him. His ears are flat back against his head again, betraying his internal conflict.

Seungcheol looks at him contemplatively. “Have you been doing this everyday?” He asks, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. It _was_ amusing, to think of Jihoon watching him go into the shower, then rolling around on his clothes before arranging them neatly again. Jihoon must be doing it for a reason, he avoids Seungcheol’s gaze too well for it to be accidental.

“Just recently.” He says, still looking pensive. And then: “I was gonna put it back, I just—just wanted to make sure you smelt like me.” he murmurs, looking rather guilty, with his sad dark eyes and grim little pout. Seungcheol doesn’t know whether that kicked-kitten look is genuine or exaggerated, but it’s damned effective. 

Seungcheol laughs. Still, he feels a shiver run through him at the intimacy of those words. “Okay then. If that’s what you want, I’ll be needing that shirt back now so I can go to work.”

Jihoon stares blankly at him. For an instant, Seungcheol thinks he’s miscalculated – but then Jihoon’s mouth tilts into a small, crooked smile. “Okay.” He rolls over, freeing the shirt, and tosses it carelessly in Seungcheol’s direction.

………………………

 

_Stage 3: Mood variations._

_Your hybrid will begin to demonstrate mood changes. Becoming irritated and anxious unexpectedly._

“What’s this?” Jihoon freezes looking down on the ground. There is a cucumber lying in wait. Seungcheol put it there, for very devious reasons. He’s recently been introduced to the hilarity of the Youtube side bar journey and search terms including the words ‘funny’ and ‘cats’.

Seungcheol shrugs his shoulders affably, “I dunno, what does it look like Jihoonie?” he says, with exaggerated nonchalance, delighted by the way Jihoon is practically clawing his way up his chest to get away from it.

“Hey—hey—chill. It’s okay. It’s not going to hurt you.” Seungcheol consoles gently, in his very best _‘I am good with animals and small children voice’_.

After Jihoon hisses at the cucumber the customary 756937 times, he’s brave enough to lower himself from Seungcheol’s arms and begins poking it, flinching back violently each time it moves a little. He drops down to the ground, level with the cucumber, eyebrows raised, but the delicate twitch of his nose is curious rather than annoyed, and it’s so fucking adorable Seungcheol can barely stand it. 

When Jihoon determines the cucumber is not sentient and won’t be attacking him, he regards it with a deeply bewildered expression, as if he is confused by the concept of vegetables. “It looks like a green snake. Why is it here? What does it want?” He asks in wonder.

Seungcheol doesn't say anything, just looks at Jihoon, although his lips tic minutely. Jihoon’s tail twitches at the tip in a way that he knows can mean interest or irritation, but probably means a bit of both. He stares at the cucumber on the tiled floor for a long moment, a cute little crease forming between his brows. “Did you put this green snake behind me while I wasn’t looking? And now you’re playing dumb?” He mumbles, looking up from the cucumber to glare at Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol laughs. “Alright—I did.” He admits sheepishly. “Look, it’s harmless. It’s a cucumber. Some guy at work sent me this video of cats reacting to cucumbers. They were freaking out so bad. It was so funny.” Seungcheol says, because apparently his mouth has decided it no longer needs to check in with his brain before speaking.

 

 

Jihoon blinks, his tail curls slowly back and forth, head slightly tilted. “So, your intention was to scare me—for your own amusement?” he says, voice soft, disbelieving.

No,  _no_ , that’s not what Seungcheol meant at all. He’s not trying to start anything. He doesn’t make a habit of placing cucumbers behind cats for kicks, and frankly, he doesn’t particularly want Jihoon hostile like this.

“No— no, no, no!” Seungcheol holds up his hands defensively. “I just wanted to see how you would react, I wasn’t sure a hybrid kitten would react at all. The cats in the video flipped up into the air and ran away—it was hilarious, honestly it was. I could show it to you.”

Jihoon arches an eyebrow, and even though he doesn't say a thing, Seungcheol can hear the implied  _Are you fucking kidding me?_  loud and clear.

“I just thought, ah…” Seungcheol hesitates, unsure if that there’s a way to end that sentence that won’t result in Jihoon scratching him in the face. There’s no good way to explain himself out of this, so he holds his tongue, trying not to dig himself any deeper. Jihoon presses his mouth into a thin, displeased line and sighs. He looks so horribly resigned that Seungcheol feels wretched about the whole thing. “I’m sorry.”

Jihoon’s jaw tightens again. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m sorry you’re upset,” Seungcheol elaborates. He reaches out to stroke his thumb over Jihoon’s temple, entranced by the instinctive tremble of Jihoon’s eyelashes. “I didn’t mean to offend you—I didn’t realise a video about cats getting scared of cucumbers would upset you.”

Seungcheol kisses his chin, his cheek. Jihoon allows it, grudgingly, tilting very slightly into the press of Seungcheol’s lips. “I was being a dick. I’m sorry kitten.”

Jihoon’s expression turns sympathetic, which is probably more than Seungcheol deserves. “You should be,” He says, but there is no heat to the words. “I’ll think about forgiving you.” But he’s the one to kiss Seungcheol this time, urging him closer and melting against him with one last little grumble of discontent.

Seungcheol smiles, closes his eyes and sinks into it: Jihoon’s warm lips, and his welcoming pliancy. He smooths a hand up the sleek line of Jihoon’s back, from the shallow dip above his butt to the nape of his neck, drawing him close, as close as he can get.

“I’ll bring in the rest of the groceries,” he whispers, soft, breathing it into Jihoon’s mouth.

“Wait.” Jihoon calls out to him. Seungcheol turns around slowly. “Take the green snake with you. I don’t like it.”

………………………………

_Stage 4: Paranoid delusions._

_Further increases in your hybrids core temperature will lead to periods of delusional activity and thoughts. It is advisable they sleep for longer periods to combat this._

Seungcheol’s unlocks the front door, bumping it shut with his hip as he checks his phone. He looks up and startles, alarmed to see Jihoon waiting so close.  Jihoon is crouched on all fours, an evident arch to his spine as he crouches and his tail is puffed up as he hisses at Seungcheol.

“Jihoon?” Seungcheol calls out wearily, reaching out carefully to comfort the hybrid. The hiss tapers off slowly, and humanity flickers in Jihoon’s eyes. He noticeably relaxes, before rushing forward to greet him.

“Seungcheol!” Jihoon loud-whispers at him, face shining with excitement as he zooms closer.

His pupils are blown wide like saucers and black in his pale face, liquid in the dark of the hallway. Jihoon’s smile grows. It’s disconcerting for reasons Seungcheol cannot even begin to comprehend, but he doesn't say anything except, “Hey—kitten, what’s up?”

“I defended the house.” Jihoon declares triumphantly, puffing his chest out for emphasis. For such a tiny little person, sometimes he bares a striking resemblance to a bulldozer.

Seungcheol doesn’t know if he expects some kind of congratulatory applause for this or what. “Uhh--what are you talking about?”

“Somebody tried to break into the house today—I defended it. I defeated the intruder. I think you should pet me.” Jihoon says very seriously.

Seungcheol stands absolutely still as if he's been mowed over by surprise. His brain immediately goes to the worst possible place, and he begins mentally cataloguing places in the city you could buy a gun, wondering whether he could purchase one and if he could train Jihoon to use it for protection purposes. Seungcheol manages to get over being startled, and his irrational impulses, at least enough to say, “What the hell? When did this happen? How come the security company didn’t contact me when the alarm was activated?”

Jihoon's smile grows broader. “He never made it into the house—I stopped him at the door. I taught him not to mess with us.”

Jihoon rarely outright lied, but his enthusiasm did occasionally color his perception of things. Seungcheol asks a few more questions, just to be on the safe side. “What did he look like?”

“I watched him from the window. He drove a red van. He was wearing black trousers and a red shirt with a logo on it and a red cap. He looked so happy, probably though he could just waltz in here and steal everything. I showed him. Anyway, he left you this note. It’s obviously some kind of threat!” Jihoon explains, procuring a rumpled letter from his pocket.

Seungcheol opens the letter apprehensively: It’s a bill. A phone bill. Jihoon defended the house from the postman. Seungcheol pinches the bride of his nose, “Oh dear god.” He says quietly, pretending not to notice how Jihoon has progressed from smiles to soft diabolical laughter. He takes a deep breath and puts on the calmest voice he can manage “Jihoon—that was the mailman.”

Jihoon’s mood abruptly turns, the fur on his tail bristles, “No,” The syllable is clipped, cat-ears laying back flat against his hair. “It **was** a dangerous man. An intruder.”

Seungcheol takes another deep breath. “What did you do to the—intruder—Jihoon?” He asks, generously ignoring the blatant untruth of that statement.

 

“I chased him away. I saw him park his suspicious van, wearing his suspicious clothes, he walked up the steps, _suspiciously,_ and then he tried to climb into the house through this tiny gap in the door. I scratched him, he dropped the letter and left.” Jihoon runs out of breath and sucks in a long lungful of air. “I saved the day. I protected the house. Pet me now.”

Seungcheol nods belatedly with long, emphatic bobs of his head. The corner of his mouth quirks up, but his forehead creases, as if he can't quite decide whether to be amused or concerned at this confession.

“What does a guy have to do to get petted around here!” Jihoon mewls in distress snapping Seungcheol out of his thoughts.

“Alright, alright!” Seungcheol laughs, reaching out to massage the back of Jihoon’s head, working upwards until his fingers brush the silky fur and pliant skin of his ears. Jihoon meows approvingly, ears relaxing as he butts his head against the touch.

“I was good?” Jihoon asks, seeking affirmation.

"Yes. Yes you were. Good kitty." Seungcheol relents, kissing the top of Jihoon’s head.

**_Note to self: Tip the mailman._ **

………………………….

_Stage 5: Territorial behaviours._

_Your hybrid will seek every opportunity to assert its territory. Becoming aggressive when challenged._

Seungcheol is livid.

“Jihoon!” Seungcheol calls out stomping in through the front door. The hybrid in question isn’t at the door to greet him as usual. Seungcheol knows why. “Jihoon!” He calls out again.

“I’m in here” Jihoon calls out to him. Seungcheol barges into the living toom, letting the door swing open and bang off the wall as he enters. Jihoon is sitting cross legged in the couch, hugging a cushion, looking at Seungcheol with a suspiciously innocent expression on his face. “How was work?” He asks in a low, deceptively polite voice.

“Did you – “ Seungcheol begins.

“No,” Jihoon interrupts, though he can’t possibly know what the question was going to be.

"Okay..." Seungcheol says, carefully. He locks the door and then leans back against it, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice takes a sudden hard turn.  “Guess who just had their ear torn off by Mrs Chan over the phone?” He asks, voice clipped.

Jihoon stares at Seungcheol blankly, which just makes him all the more irate. _“Jihoon.”_ He warns, allowing a hint of impatience to color his voice.

“I’m assuming it’s you, otherwise you wouldn’t be so angry.” Jihoon says dispassionately, not hearing or perhaps ignoring the sharpness in Seungcheol’s voice.

“Yes, that’s right, it was me. She called me at work and I was on the phone to her for over 30 minutes trying to calm her down.”

Jihoon smiles, but it’s brittle, forced. It’s almost a sneer. “Don’t you have a receptionist to field your calls? She’s not doing a very good job if she’s letting Mrs Chan bother you at work.” Jihoon replies coolly.

Seungcheol exhales slowly, frown lines appearing in his forehead. He turns away, rolling his shoulders, trying to work some of the tension off. “Jihoon—don’t play dumb. You know exactly why Mrs Chan called me at work.”

Jihoon shrugs, apparently of the opinion that nothing interesting has happened. “I haven’t got a clue Cheol.” He dismisses, with a calculated nonchalance that Seungcheol is almost certain he picked up from him, the cheeky shit.

“Okay—I’ll tell you why Jihoon. Because you kicked her tiny dog into a bush!” Seungcheol accuses angrily.

Jihoon’s fingers tighten around the cushion he’s holding, delicate claws extending from beneath his nails to scratch at the fabric.

Usually, Jihoon demonstrated painful shyness around other hybrids and animals. But recently, he was beginning to act more aggressively, with the kind of vicious bossiness seen in third-world dictators, and a _‘who me?’_ expression that got him out of trouble with Seungcheol every time. But not today.

Jihoon turns to look at him with wide, unblinking eyes. There’s something sharp and accusatory in that look, which is distinctly unfair, considering that Seungcheol isn’t the one who’s lost the fucking plot and started attacking the neighbourhood pets. He sighs gustily. “Ok—first of all. Lower your voice, my ears are a lot bigger than yours and if I can hear you fart 20 metres away I can hear you shouting when you’re stood right next to me. Secondly, Smoochems had it coming.” He replies, sounding totally calm about that fact.

“What!” Seungcheol spits, almost frothing with anger.

“He came at me!” Jihoon protests, commendably defiant in the face of one of Seungcheol’s more terrifying scowls. 

Seungcheol shakes his head, patently unsympathetic. “Are you fucking serious? It’s a tiny dog!”

Jihoon scowls and huffs and turns a little red in the face. “It was doing a poop in the garden and she was just—letting it, like she owns the place.” he spits, making a vague gesture to the area around them.

“So what?!” Seungcheol snaps automatically.

“So what? How can you say that! It’s our home—my territory and that dog was defiling it. Rubbing its scent all over the place like it owns everything!” His words come out clipped, irritated, like Seungcheol’s wasting his time by standing there arguing about this.

“So you kick it? That’s your solution?” Seungcheol shouts and Jihoon looks like he pops a blood vessel or two rolling his eyes.

“Of course.” Jihoon says,  _duh_  very much implied, as if he can't understand why Seungcheol is even asking him the question. He sounds noticeably less abrasive when he says, “I didn’t kick it _that_ hard—I just nudged it a little, with my foot—into some shrubbery. It only yelped a little.” his expression turns endearingly rueful, and Seungcheol has to remind himself why he is pissed.

He fixes a long, angry glare on Jihoon. “I know Smoochems can be annoying, I know he tried to bite your tail last week. But it’s a tiny dog—a small little thing. Mrs Chan said you didn’t even try and speak to her you just ran out of the house and whacked it!” Seungcheol snipes.

Jihoon’s visible recollection of these facts is gratifying, he seems to be in emotional turmoil in that moment and he heaves a disgruntled sigh. Seungcheol can practically feel him struggling to formulate a cutting comeback, but his anger wins out again “I knew that bitch had it in for me! She’s had it in for me since the day I scratched her in the face!” Jihoon says, voice sharpening again with impatience.

Seungcheol scrubs at his face with a hand and considers the odds of Mrs Chan calling animal welfare over this—or badmouthing him to the entire neighbourhood watch. That invitation to join is definitely rescinded now. _“Maybe you shouldn’t have scratched her in the face then-”_ He says quietly, almost under his breath but Jihoon’s hypersensitive hearing misses nothing.

“She tried to molest me!” Jihoon yells from his place on the couch, and then looks up at Seungcheol. “Her hands are clammy and ew, and she smells of dog.” he adds in a more moderated voice, as though he truly expects Seungcheol to sympathise.

“She was trying to pet you!” Seungcheol snaps back. Jihoon huffs, as though it’s the most unreasonable thing he’s ever heard of. 

They are both breathing hard now, anger and hard emotions making the ample living room, small.

 “I can’t believe you’re taking its side!” Jihoon accuses, voice rising in volume and echoing off the walls. “If you love it so much—why don’t you just go make it your pet instead of me!”

“Don’t be so immature! You’re not my pet Jihoon, you’re my boyfriend!” Seungcheol shouts, uncaring of neighbours or walls-with-ears or his shot-to-hell image.

Jihoon throws the cushion on the ground and jumps to his feet. Tail swinging wildly as he ears flatten back defensively. “I HA—“ he opens his mouth to start yelling then freezes, looking up sharply at Seungcheol “wait—what?”

 “Huh?” Seungcheol gasps, too startled by the sudden shift of their confrontation to do anything but freeze under the hybrids gaze.

Jihoon takes a half step closer, his gaze unfalteringly trained on Seungcheol, his expression assessing and intimately focused. “You—you just said that I’m your boyfriend.”

Seungcheol blinks rapidly, “Yeah—you are.” He affirms.

There’s a crease to Jihoon’s forehead that Seungcheol wants to ignore, but knows he can’t.  It takes a moment for understanding to replace utter confusion on the hybrids face. Seungcheol can see it happen, the previous irritation dissipating, a slow-motion tipping of the scales in the other direction as Jihoon's brain cycles through the revelation.

“I am?” Jihoon says in a quiet, low voice. The look he pins on Seungcheol is assessing, weighing. His nose twitches, just a little. “You’ve never said that before.”

Seungcheol tries to hold his gaze, but he can't. “I haven’t?” he says, rubbing distractedly at the back of his neck. He can't even maintain eye contact with Jihoon anymore. His face is hot and his throat is burning. The anger he’d managed to build up, to carry him through this, is dissipating fast. “I’m pretty sure I have, haven’t I? I mean, you clearly are my boyfriend. I mean—“ He struggles for the right words, runs an agitated hand through his hair, then sighs. “We live together, we cook each other dinner and ask each other about our days and plan our weekends together. You're the last person I talk to at night and the first person I want to see in the morning. We sleep together and have sex and we love each other—that makes us boyfriend’s, right?”

Seungcheol bites his lip, fidgeting uncharacteristically with the leg of his trousers. His face feels hot. “Look, I just…“ He takes a small, awkward step toward the hybrid. “Wait—why are you giving me that look?

Jihoon is staring at him, as if a metric ton of smitten has just fallen on top of his head, veritable hearts shining out of his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but purrs, stepping forward to close what little space is between them even further. “Cheollie.” He gives Seungcheol a smouldering look through his lashes, voice low and flirty.

Seungcheol wets his lips. He has this too-warm sensation in the pit of his stomach—and, well, other places. But—fuck, they were just in the middle of a fight and Seungcheol has an important point he needs to get across.

“No—Jihoon.” He tries to reprimand, tires to stall the hybrids advances.

 _“Seungcheol.”_ Jihoon purrs softly, the sound muffling as he burrows his face into Seungcheol’s chest.

“Jihoon—we’re in the middle of a fight—don’t pull that purring, doe eyed stunt on me, it’s not going to work.” Jihoon’s ears twitch agreeably, he leans heavily against Seungcheol’s chest, pressing his nose into Seungcheol’s neck, snuffling softly.

Seungcheol insists to himself that this is absolutely in no way a turn on. “Jihoonie—no—no—no nuzzling—stop it.”

Jihoon snuggles closer.

“Cut it out, I’m angry with you and your bad behaviour—stop—stop nuzzling.”

Jihoon shows no such restraint. He presses into Seungcheol's touch, pushing his face against the curve of Seungcheol's throat, licking at his collarbone. "You’re so sweet." he murmurs, his voice a sexy rumble.

“This isn’t going to work Jihoon. We need to talk about what you did to Smoochems.”

_ FIVE MINUTES OF INTENSE NUZZLING LATER. _

“Fuck Mrs Chan and her tiny dog—you kick whoever you want to kick.”

………………………………..

_Stage 6: Pseudo Heat_

_You’re Hybrid will become particularly clingy and affectionate._

Seungcheol slips his jacket on over his shirt, glances in the mirror briefly before walking out of the bedroom. He’s barely out of the doorway when Jihoon launches himself at him, arms going around Seungcheol's neck, clinging tenaciously, as if he is afraid Seungcheol is going to try to slip away. Which he is trying to do—he’s going to be late for work— _again!_   “Do you have to go to work today?” Jihoon whines.

Seungcheol chuckles. “I don’t own the bank Jihoon—not yet anyway. But one day I will and I can take as many vacations I want. I would probably still go to work though—just to terrify people.”

Even once Seungcheol manages to gently untangle him, Jihoon grabs Seungcheol's arm in a death grip and makes himself a hybrid-kitten-sized barnacle against Seungcheol's side, slowing down progress as they head towards the front door. Seungcheol manages to retrieve his briefcase despite Jihoon’s attempts at hampering his departure. After a brief stare down, Jihoon relaxes his grip, seemingly getting over his bout of clinginess; or perhaps just changing tactics.

“Can’t I come with you?” Jihoon says with deliberate coyness. He reaches out, fingers playing along Seungcheol’s belt.  _Definitely changing tactics then._

Seungcheol’s eyes run over Jihoon’s loose-limbed form, down and then up, to a smirk with quite an obvious intent. “Come with me and do what exactly?”

Jihoon actually pauses at that, like he might be thinking “I could keep you company—answer a few calls, file some paperwork. _Play with you?”_ Jihoon says vaguely. He yawns and leans against the wall to stretch his limbs, languid and brazen. His sweater rides up in the back as he raises his arms, exposing a strip of pale skin and the point where his tail joins his spine. It curls gracefully in the air over his shoulder and god, it’s a sucker punch to the groin seeing him all lithe and stretched out like that, tail swaying provocatively.

It’s such a barefaced ploy that Seungcheol can’t believe he’s falling for it – but he can’t  _not_  look at those creamy soft thighs, the arch of Jihoon’s chest and belly, the submissive flattening of his ears. His tail sweeps under Seungcheol’s nose, fleetingly, before curling low around his waist, drawing Seungcheol’s gaze to his ass—again, very deliberately. Jihoon really has got the most spectacular ass, tight and round and heartbreakingly smooth; it’s at least three-quarters of the reason Seungcheol continues to be late to work.

Seungcheol swallows against a sharp stab of arousal.

_Christ, I need to get a fucking grip._

There are faint marks on the insides of Jihoon’s thighs and across his stomach, blurry bruises only just starting to take shape. Seungcheol doesn’t recall putting them there, but his mind is more than happy to fill in the blanks: _Jihoon’s leg thrown over his shoulder, thighs trembling in Seungcheol’s grip, chest heaving as Seungcheol folds him in half and fucks those stuttering little mewls out of him._

Jihoon’s eyes are sharp with interest, belying the affected nonchalance of his pose, and Seungcheol’s cock twitches, his body responding to Jihoon’s the way it always does, with or without explicit approval from his higher functions.

He wants Jihoon, and it’s only too obvious that Jihoon wants him in return. Jihoon _could_ come to work with him, Jihoon would let him do whatever he likes, here or there, no questions asked. Seungcheol actually considers it for a moment, distracted by how Jihoon’s thumb is tracing persuasive little circles at his wrist and how his body is radiating an enticing warmth. He’s struggling with himself – specifically, with the desire to fit his fingers back over those bruises, where they belong.

 _No_ _, stop it! We just did it last night!_ – Seungcheol tells himself sternly.

“Jihoon—although that would make my work day much more entertaining. I’m 100% sure it’s against staff policy. I don’t even think we’re allowed to bring hybrids to work now that I think of it.”

“But I’m small—I can fit in your briefcase.” Jihoon argues, taking the case out of Seungcheol’s hand and setting it on the floor. He flips it open and proceeds to sit inside. “Look. Nobody will see me.” He attests, trying to fold himself into the bag and close it—unsuccessfully.

“If you manage to lock that briefcase with you inside it—I’ll take you.” Seungcheol jokes. Jihoon interprets this as an honest suggestion and struggles vehemently to force himself into the case. It’s hilarious and Seungcheol has to wipe the tears from the corner of his eyes.

“Jihoon—baby—stop.” Seungcheol says, taking Jihoon by the hand and hoisting him out of the briefcase, to his feet.

Jihoon’s arms droop listlessly at his side. “Please Cheol! Stay or take me with you.” He whimpers, giving him a beseeching look.

  _No_ , Seungcheol thinks again, weakly. It’s not quite as convincing as before. Seungcheol chuckles, putting an arm around him consolingly. “What’s gotten into you? I’ll be back soon. Tell you what—I’ll even come back for lunch. How does that sound?”

Jihoon isn't the least bit mollified. "Just go.” He crosses his arms peevishly over his chest, and his bottom lip begins to tremble.

“Don’t be like that, you know I have to go to work.” Seungcheol hesitates, then steps forward to kiss Jihoon briefly on the mouth. He means it as nothing more than a departing gesture, a white flag of sorts, something to smooth the lines from Jihoon’s forehead.

For a moment, that’s all it is – and then something in Seungcheol seems to snap. He surges up against Jihoon, so suddenly that they both stagger and bump against the wall. Jihoon’s hands come up to curl round Seungcheol’s shoulders, grabbing at him, and the chaste little kiss turns fierce, wet and obscene. In the span of ten seconds, they’ve managed to skip straight over goodbye and land square in full-throttle desperation.

Something is undoubtedly strange about this, Seungcheol thinks dimly, something – but it’s impossible to think properly with Jihoon pressing against him, warm and hard-angled and making urgent little noises into his mouth.

It’s been a mere few hours since their last fuck, and arousal is already clenching hard in his stomach. He goes to push himself away and instead ends up hauling Jihoon closer, one hand clenched in the pert muscle of his ass and the other round the back of his neck.

Jihoon’s tail is everywhere, in constant motion: running over Seungcheol’s shoulders, squeezing his biceps, sliding down his sides to clutch at his hips before coming back up to flutter across his face. Seungcheol’s mouth is hard on the hybrid, demanding, breaking away from the kiss only to attack Jihoon’s jaw, his neck. It must  _hurt_ , thin skin caught roughly between Seungcheol’s teeth, Seungcheol’s fingers digging bruises into Jihoon’s pale flesh. But Jihoon doesn’t complain. It’s clumsy and violent and Seungcheol is going hard so quickly his head is spinning.

“Dammit—I need to go.” Seungcheol grits out, hating himself for every syllable. He’s caught between stepping away to the responsibilities of work and stepping closer to Jihoon’s scent and the wet slide of his lips against his neck.

 “Then go,” Jihoon says, breathing hard against Seungcheol’s jaw, “I’m not keeping you here.”

“You are,” Seungcheol confirms. He presses Jihoon harder against the wall, trying to simultaneously grind against him and work his tight shorts down his hips. It’s slow going, but he doesn’t care. He craves this with everything in him, ravenous for the familiar shape of Jihoon’s body, the heat of his skin. He nudges his thigh a bit more insistently between Jihoon’s legs and drinks in his choked little moan. “You need to stop saying goodbye to me at the door. I’ll never get to work on time.”

Jihoon works a hand down the front of Seungcheol’s trousers to grope his cock, palm warm when Seungcheol rocks against him again. “You’re then one who has me pinned to the wall Cheol,” he says, sounding surprisingly coherent, given the way his hips are jerking against Seungcheol’s thigh.

Seungcheol gives Jihoon’s shorts another yank. “Fine, I’m leaving.” He confirms, more to himself than Jihoon. His heart doesn’t stop pounding, though; something about Jihoon’s soft lips and that sinuous tail and the underlying growl to his voice, all of it. It’s driving him insane, and it’s only been a few hours.

“Okay—leave.” Jihoon purrs against his throat, a low needy sound, fingers clenching painfully tight in Seungcheol’s hair. “Or you could just mate me,” he says, barely a whisper. He wriggles up against Seungcheol’s chest, and the last of Seungcheol’s resolve crumbles, ensnared by the lovely twist of those narrow hips.

Seungcheol is two hours late to work.

……………………………………..

_Stage 7: The final stage_

_The hybrid will begin to demonstrate a streak of possessiveness. Depending on the species, they may be more affectionate with their intended mate or become cold and distant. They often experience irrational thoughts and can become aggressive towards those they deem to be competition._

Jihoon is waiting for Seungcheol in the hallway when he gets home. He looks tired. There are bags under his eyes, and his clothes are a rumpled, like he’s been rolling around the floor in them all day. But he's smiling, even if the smile doesn't really reach his eyes. 

“You’re late again.” Jihoon announces, and there’s so much in those three words: fatigue, impatience, acceptance, a hint of petulance.

He’s got a point, of course, though in Seungcheol’s defence, Jihoon has been  _impossible_  lately. In the last week, Jihoon has voluntarily spoken to Seungcheol exactly four times. (Not counting a bizarre phone call he made to Seungcheol’s office about a tiny red dot he saw floating across the floor that he tried to chase but could never catch).

He’s more tetchy in general, hypercritical and unusually quick to anger, which probably has something to do with the fact that he looks as though he hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in something like a week. Seungcheol just wants do bundle him up and cuddle his worries away, but he has never seen anyone so simultaneously adorable and murderous. Today, seems like one of his better days.

Jihoon moods have become very unpredictable recently. He runs hot and cold, avoiding eye contact when Seungcheol approaches him and then staring holes into the back of Seungcheol’s head the moment he turns around. He can be very affectionate in the morning, grooming and nuzzling Seungcheol awake.

He’s a very different hybrid in the evening.

If they’re watching television together, he’ll occasionally wander over and switch it off, then scamper away before Seungcheol can spank his tiny ass. He also likes to knock the remote away with his tail or change the channel to something horrendously boring and then hides the remote in out of reach places only he can get to. He’ll sit at the window and hiss futilely at people passing by outside. Sometimes, he’ll just slink past Seungcheol with accusing eyes, and demand petting. Each time Seungcheol is tempted to tell him no, he hasn’t been behaving properly to deserve a pet, but he bites his tongue because this isn’t how Jihoon normally behaves.

Seungcheol clears is throat. “Yeah—I’m sorry. I had this business dinner I couldn’t get out of. Anyway, how was your—day?” He drawls, eyes drawn to the agitated flick of Jihoon’s cat ears, the furious swish of his tail.

Jihoon prowls closer, nose twitching in the air and then closer to sniff over Seungcheol’s arm. The smile is gone from his face now, replaced by a look that is tentative and just a tad sad, and Seungcheol scowls instinctively because he doesn't want to see that expression on Jihoon’s face.

“What’s the matter kitten?”

Jihoon’s nose twitches carefully along his jacket sleeve, then up the side seam. His head jerks back suddenly and he literally hisses, showing off sharp incisors. His eyes narrow dangerously, seemingly detecting an odour he’s not pleased with. Seungcheol watches as he steps back, his tail swinging wildly back and forth, knocking over a lamp with a moody carelessness that has become all too familiar over the past few days.

Just as Seungcheol is drawing in breath to speak again, Jihoon interrupts, “Seungcheol—why do you smell like another hybrid?” he growls, sounding angry and vaguely accusatory.

“I do?” Seungcheol laughs, sniffing his jacket experimentally, noting no difference in the aroma apart from the scent of cigarettes, when his colleague insisted on lightning up during their meeting. “I can’t smell anything.”

Jihoon is pensive at that. Then he cocks his head slightly and says, “Yes Seungcheol. You smell like another hybrid. Another feline specifically. I can smell it on you.”

“Well, I haven’t been around any— _wait_ —come to think of it.” Seungcheol pauses. He’d just been at strategic dinner meeting. He recalls now, catching sight of a hybrid sitting a few tables away, accompanying its owner. It was all tall and blond and imminently forgettable when standing in Jihoon's shadow.

“There _was_ another hybrid at the restaurant,” Seungcheol says by way of explanation. Belatedly he thinks to add, “but they were a few tables away so I’m not sure how you can scent them.”

Something changes in Jihoon’s expression, the corners of his mouth turn down in disgust and he turns to face Seungcheol fully, eyes narrowed. “Oh— **really!** Is that all?”

A spark of annoyance flickers in Seungcheol. “Yeah— **really.”** He shoots back. He isn’t sure why it bothers him, but it does. Especially when Jihoon asks so frankly, as if he is accusing Seungcheol of something heinous.

Jihoon’s eyes have gone cold and flinty. He turns away, busies himself with absently playing with his collar. A nervous tick. Seungcheol is momentarily taken aback to see how small he looks, shoulders bowed, all folded in on himself.

“Jihoon—what’s wrong? You’ve been getting really snappy with me recently. I don’t know what I’ve done.”

Jihoon snaps his head to regard him. “So first of all, you said you weren’t around another hybrid. Now it turns out there **was** one and you **forgot** to mention it. So, I’m thinking, maybe you’re **forgetting** other details. Like, petting it for example. Did you pet another hybrid Seung-“

“No I didn’t.” Seungcheol cuts in, too sick of this hostility between them to continue playing his part. Seungcheol clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. “I told you it was sitting a few tables away. I didn’t speak to it.”

“No? Then maybe you did something else?” Jihoon bites out after a minute, jaw clenched so tightly Seungcheol is almost surprised he managed to get the words out. “Maybe you touched it! Kissed it! Maybe you mated with it!”

It’s so wide of the mark, Seungcheol nearly laughs in his face. “What the hell! **NO!”** Seungcheol realizes that they’re practically shouting, that Jihoon’s voice is doing that meowling, high-pitched cracking thing that happens when he's particularly angry or upset. Jihoon curls in on himself even tighter, mewls sounding like he’s verging on hysteria. Maybe his hormones are rampaging around his system and he’s exhausted and emotional or maybe there is something else in the works here but Seungcheol is horrified to find tears welling up in Jihoon’s eyes.

Seungcheol smiles faintly, almost wistfully, and reaches out to caress Jihoon’s face. He curls his hand, brushing his knuckles along Jihoon’s jaw line, and Jihoon nearly moans aloud from the contact before stepping away.

“Jihoon,” Seungcheol says helplessly, but Jihoon is on a roll now, building back up to another fit of temper.

“Maybe you didn’t do those things—but I bet you wanted to Seungcheol!” Jihoon says, voice so soft and vulnerable that it almost hurts to hear. There's a look of real hurt on his face before it melts into something pleading. “I bet you thought about it real hard—you sly dog!” Jihoon yells. He sags on the spot, like the air has gone out of him, and the storm cloud breaks at last, fat tears sliding down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking.

 Seungcheol’s throat feels raw, shredded by the broken-glass edges of the words he can’t let out. "Kitten," He says helplessly, his voice choked. He reaches out to comfort Jihoon, to pull him close but the hybrid is already running down the corridor in tears.

 _“What the fuck.”_ Says Seungcheol to himself once he is alone in the hallway.

……………………

Seungcheol pours himself two fingers of whiskey and throws them back in a hurry and immediately pours himself another and leans back again the kitchen counter, running a hand agitatedly through his hair. Jihoon refuses to come out of the bathroom he’s locked himself in, despite Seungcheol’s assurances that he has not, in-fact—touched or thought about touching another hybrid.

He thinks it’s amazing that Jihoon can smell another hybrid’s scent on his suit jacket even though he had no interactions with the pet. It was almost four tables away, the whole other side of the restaurant, and Seungcheol only spotted it once as it came in with its owner.

Perhaps it brushed past him without him noticing? Perhaps when he was leaving the restaurant? He picks up his jacket and skims over the material, checking for any fibres or fur that may have clung to it. Checking in the pocket he finds a folded up piece of paper. Uncrumpling it he realises it is the pamphlet Wonwoo gave him to read a few weeks ago.

_ The seven stages of heat in hybrids. A layman’s guide.  _

His eyes scan over the page quickly, his breath catches in his throat as it occurs to him suddenly that all the behaviour changes, the mood swings, the aggression, the clinginess was heading in that direction. Jihoon was going into heat early.  It was so damned obvious, and Seungcheol looked right past it. How could he have been so blind!

“Ch—cheol?” Jihoon’s voice echoes in the kitchen. Seungcheol’s head snaps up as he hears him.

He didn’t expect for Jihoon to come out of the bathroom so soon, yet here he was waving his tail casually over his shoulder, cool as you please. His body language is far more relaxed than it was an hour ago, loose and fluid, at odds with the fact that he’s quite obviously half-hard. Jihoon’s bare skin gleams in the faint light from the kitchen, a stark contrast with his tight little black shorts.

He’s barely supporting himself on his own two feet, relying heavily on the door frame to remain upright. On closer inspection, Jihoon’s panting lightly and his eyes have taken a darkened sheen to them.

“I don’t feel so good Cheol.” He mumbles, before collapsing to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS SOOO LONG!  
> 1) Sorry about the Gifs.....if you know me, I love Gifs.  
> 2) Also---not sorry about the gifs. Gifs are fun.  
> 3) Feedback in appreciated! Hope you enjoy reading!


	7. Heat Glorious Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you really need a summary for this?

“Pick up, pick up, _pick up!”_ Seungcheol chants and listens to the ringtone rattle in his phone speakers. On the sixth ring the phone switches to voicemail and he hangs up, only to hit redial again. The Hyb/Labs reception desk insisted that Wonwoo is at work and available, but Seungcheol’s tried his cell more than half a dozen times with no luck.

Jihoon is limp on the couch. He was just warm at first—and then distressingly warm, then  _hot_. Now his pulse is racing and weird shivers are racing up and down his frame that make his fur stand on end and his tail stick straight up.

Seungcheol closes his eyes and counts each ring. He doesn't get Wonwoo’s voicemail this time. Three rings in, someone picks up.

“Hello?”

“Wonwoo! Fuck, thank god.” Seungcheol sighs, letting the air rattle out of his lungs. “It’s me Seungcheol! I need your hel-“

“I’m not Wonwoo.” A man cuts him off before he can get any further.  There's a pause, a puzzled pause. “Wonwoo is busy uhhhm—getting dressed.”

“PUT HIM ON THE PHONE THEN!” Seungcheol yells, surprised to hear it aloud, but he supposes that screaming it inside his head is enough to make it emerge. The man on the other end of the line yelps like a frightened puppy, fumbling with the phone. It’s followed by the faint rustling of what Seungcheol can only presume is Wonwoo _‘dressing’_.

It isn't until he's paced across the carpet a few times that Wonwoo gets on the line. “He-“ Wonwoo begins, hoarse. He clears his throat in a quick harsh cough before trying again. “Hello?”

“Wonwoo. _It’s Seungcheol.”_ he says as calmly as he can manage.

“Ahh—Seungcheol. Lucky you caught me,” he points out, in lieu of actually drawing Seungcheol’s attention to just how late it is, “I’m not usually awake at this time but—I was in the middle of an experiment I—uhh.”

“I don’t care!” Seungcheol interrupts, he knows he sounds terse, but he doesn't care. “Listen—Jihoon has collapsed.” Seungcheol says, his voice breaking on Jihoon’s name. “I think he’s in heat! I don’t know what to do! I called for an ambulance, but as soon as I mentioned he was a hybrid, they said they couldn’t take him!”

“Yeah—they’ll do that. Flies in the face of the Hippocratic oath if you ask me! Insurance or something doesn’t cover hybrid care. It’s ridiculous. It’s something I’ve brought up with the ethics board on many-“ Wonwoo continues to speak in that righteous, self-aggrandizing tone until Seungcheol is grinding his teeth in rage.

 **“Wonwoo!”** Seungcheol interjects loudly. “Focus!” His fingers tighten around the phone and his mind gives a curious dizzying lurch, one that makes him blink away black spots that swim before his eyes. Seungcheol suddenly feels himself warm in his clothing, a light sweat breaking out over his skin; he unbuttons his shirt without a thought, too distracted and tense to care.

“Oh—oh yes. Sorry, well, has he been physically sick?” Wonwoo asks.

Seungcheol loosens his tie and slides to his knees beside the couch, reaching over to pull Jihoon’s slack jaw down. There is no sign of vomit, but Jihoon is pale and sweating—never a good combination. Seungcheol turns him, feels for a pulse—weak and far too fast—and Jihoon is still burning up. His t-shirt is soaked through with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead.

“No, he’s just very, very warm and limp. I can’t get him to respond to me at all!” Seungcheol says, giving the prone figure a shake, but Jihoon remains unresponsive.

“Okay, that’s normal. Their first heat can be a great strain on their system. Although, by my calculations, his is earlier than I originally predicted.” Wonwoo says, sounding perfectly composed, but now that Seungcheol is paying attention, he recognizes the tension in his voice, the strictly controlled calm. It’s _unnerving_. “Check if his hands and feet are cold.” Wonwoo suggests next.

Seungcheol reaches down and lays a hand on Jihoon’s foot, then check his hands, both feel surprisingly cool against his skin. “Yes, yes they are!”

Wonwoo takes a breath, the sound of it ragged over the phone. “He’s dehydrated. You’ll need to get fluids in him as soon as possible and cool him down.”

Seungcheol sighs into the phone, frustrated. “How do I get fluids in him if he’s not responsive?”

Wonwoo sighs dramatically. “You didn’t read those books I gave you—did you Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol feels his stomach drop. The guilt sits in his veins like lead. He curses under his breath. “No—I didn’t. Do I sound like a person who read your books?”

Wonwoo tuts. It's simultaneously indulgent and condescending. “Ahh, okay—let me think.” Wonwoo flusters, for too long.

Seungcheol longs for the future, where audio communication transcends its current parameters and he can reach through the phone line to throttle Wonwoo’s neck. For today, all he can manage is a half-hearted growl. “Would a cold shower help reduce his temperature?” He asks.

“Yes, yes—that would work!” Wonwoo agrees.

……………………………….

Cradling Jihoon under his knees and shoulders, Seungcheol lifts him of the couch and carries him into the bathroom. He lays Jihoon just outside the shower and pulls his clothes off, turning the shower on and twisting the dial to cold.

He checks Jihoon’s pulse again; his heartbeat is racing out of control under Seungcheol’s ear, and Seungcheol taps his cheek hoping to bring him around. “Jihoonie, can you hear me?” Seungcheol says, gripping his shoulders and jostling him a little. Jihoon is motionless, and Seungcheol feels a prickle of fear raise the hairs on the back of his neck.

“I know you hate showers Kitten, but trust me on this.” Seungcheol says, in a voice that’s part explanation, part apology, part something else. As carefully as he can manage, Seungcheol carries him into the shower, himself fully-clothed, with cold water pouring down on them. 

 _“Nooooooo!”_ Jihoon gives a start of surprise, mewling and kicking out, cat-ears laying back flat against his hair. He makes tiny aborted movements as if to push Seungcheol away, trying to curl away from the relentless, cold spray of water.

“Shhhhhh, it’s okay!”

Jihoon writhes in Seungcheol’s arms, trying in a panicked burst of effort to climb around him, but he’s delirious and his paws knead uselessly at Seungcheol soaking shirt. “Noooo, please don’t go!” Jihoon cries out, stricken and pale with glassy, fever-bright eyes.

Seungcheol feels his heart twist as surprise vies with concern. “Jihoonie, calm down baby. I got you.” He soothes, almost losing his grip on the flailing hybrid in his arms.

Fear washes over Jihoon’s face, incandescent and he chokes off a scream, thrashing, pulling mindlessly like an animal caught in a trap. Seungcheol kneels down in the shower to stabilise him, but keeps him cradled close as he mutters nonsensical gentling words against his flattened ears.

 _“Please!_ Don’t— _don’t leave me!”_ Jihoon hisses and tries to sit up straighter. Seungcheol puts a hand against his wet bare chest and leaves it there. He can feel Jihoon's heart racing under his palm.

“I’m not leaving you kitten. I’m right here.” Seungcheol says, his voice firm but gentle.

“Don’t leave me alone. _Please_ —I’ll behave! I’ll be good!” Seungcheol tries to hush him, tries to bring him back down to earth, then Jihoon cries out again and claws at Seungcheol’s shirt. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave me alone! I’m scared!”

He lets out a sharp breath that can almost be mistaken for a laugh. But the next one he takes is hitched. His face wans as his breathing deteriorates into short, choppy gasps. A sliver away from sobbing.

He’s remembering something. Seungcheol realizes all at once, feeling the thing he believes to be his heart sputter and catch at the center of him.  “It’s okay Kitten. I’m here.” Seungcheol murmurs, not letting go of Jihoon, who's shivering deceptively even as his skin burns to the touch.

“I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry! Please let me in!”

Panic slams into Seungcheol like a fist to the gut. _“Jihoon_ , I--” He cuts himself off, because it all makes sense, suddenly, _horribly._ After a flicker of hesitation, he reaches up, smoothing his fingers through Jihoon’s wet hair. 

Seungcheol wants to say more—to tell Jihoon that he’s never going to hurt him, that he’s never going to leave him. That Jihoon is the only person he can imagine himself with. He wants to tell Jihoon that he’s sorry for not reading those books Wonwoo gave him. For letting the fever develop without realising it.

Seungcheol says none of this, but he puts his mouth to Jihoon, hoping a kiss can convey some measure of it. Seungcheol cups his face in his hand, kisses the planes of his cheeks, the corners of his lips, his eyelids, then takes his mouth and kisses him greedily. When he pulls back, Jihoon has stopped flailing. He looks breathless and his mouth looks wanton against his pale skin.

Jihoon’s blinking rapidly, like he's having trouble focusing. “Seungcheol?” He says, his voice a thin thread of sound.

“Yes Kitten, It’s me.” Seungcheol whispers.

Suddenly, his face is cast in bold relief, eyes gleaming with reflected awe. “Seungcheol,” he repeats, like it’s the only word he knows.

Seungcheol smooths his palms across Jihoon’s ribs, his fingers curling possessively around the delicate bend of bones. Seungcheol feels a fine tremor start to trace his limbs, his body reacting to the sight of Jihoon plaint in his arms, without his consent.

Seungcheol’s breath catches as he stares at the small hybrid, and feels rather than hears the beginnings of a predatory growl in his chest. His ears seem to be buzzing with some insistent need, a haze of feral longing quietly clouding his thoughts.

 _This is terrible,_  Seungcheol thinks.  _I have no control over myself._

_………………………_

Satisfied that Jihoon’s temperature has dropped sufficiently, Seungcheol lifts him out of the shower and carries him to the bedroom, enveloping his shivering form in several towels. “Thirsty?” Seungcheol asks.

Jihoon meows vaguely and tightens his arm round Seungcheol’s neck. Seungcheol hasn’t any idea whether that means yes or no, but it was mostly a rhetorical question in any case. They both need water, Jihoon especially.

He gives Jihoon another few minutes, and then rocks him a bit, nudging him out of his dozing trance. “Going to get you some water. I won’t be long.”

Jihoon mewls and grumbles wordlessly in obvious displeasure, but he lets Seungcheol disentangle himself. His body drops down to the mattress like it’s made of lead as Seungcheol eases him down.

He’s still in the same position when Seungcheol comes back from the kitchen, a haphazard sprawl of limbs on the towels like a chalk outline. He doesn’t react when Seungcheol sits down on the edge of the mattress, smooths a hand down his side and rolls him gently onto his back. He’s amazed at how quickly Jihoon has dried off. Except for a few damp locks, his hair is almost completely dry and already his skin is starting to warm again.

Jihoon blinks up at him, drowsy. His tails curls where it’s landed on Seungcheol’s thigh. Seungcheol catches that tail and brings it to his lips, brushes a kiss over the satin tip. He runs a hand through Jihoon’s hair, his fingers catching softly in the still-damp curls. “I need you to drink this kitten.”

Seungcheol shifts them both around until Jihoon is halfway in his lap, supported by Seungcheol’s arm under his shoulders. He uncaps the bottle and holds it to Jihoon’s lips. Jihoon drinks about half the bottle before turning his head away. Seungcheol waits for him patiently before encouraging him to finish it, then tosses it in the general direction of the bin. He’ll make sure Jihoon drinks more later.

Jihoon’s eyes have drifted shut again, but they open when Seungcheol runs a finger down his nose. His gaze is blurry and unfocused; he looks ready to drop off at any moment.

Suddenly, dark eyes slant up at him, a hint of adoration gleaming in their depths. “I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier Cheol.” Jihoon says so soberly, Seungcheol can't help but laugh.

……………………………………………….

“I have a serious problem,” Seungcheol announces, when he calls Wonwoo again.

“A new one?” Wonwoo asks, his tone lazing somewhere between apathy and gloom.

“His temperature is back to normal, but he was hallucinating in the shower. Crying about stuff, maybe from his past.” Seungcheol explains, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he peels his soaking wet shirt off and wrings the water out over the sink. “It’s hard to tell cause he doesn’t really talk about his previous owners and dodges most of my questions.”

“He’s just delirious because of the fever. That’s normal during heat, especially his first one. He’ll probably say all kinds of crazy stuff. During heat, his brain is swells inside his skull.”

“Brain swelling!” Seungcheol repeats incredulously. “Wonwoo, you’re not helping me calm down.”

“Is that what I’m supposed to be doing?” He sounds at once perfectly shocked and amused.

“ **Yes!** That’s why I’m calling you—cause I’m freaking out. You think I’m calling to boast or something!”

Seungcheol can sense the perturbed eye-rolling even over the phone. “Ok. Everything is going to be _fine_ Seungcheol—you’re doing _great_. Just _relax._ The hallucinations will fade away as you have sex.”

 _“Have sex?_ I can’t have sex with him now!” Seungcheol growls into the receiver.

“Seungcheol you-,” Wonwoo begins, and then goes uncharacteristically quiet. Seungcheol can hear a muffled conversation, and it's clear Wonwoo has covered over the mouthpiece with his hand.

Seungcheol almost misses it, but there’s the unmistakable sound of a frenzied conversation in the background, of Wonwoo conversing with another person. _‘No—no more sex. Sit down. I wasn’t talking to you—bad puppy!’_ and then an audible whining.

Seungcheol strains his ears for any hint of sound, but there’s nothing until Wonwoo speaks again. “Sorry—what did you say?”

 **“I said** —I can’t have sex with Jihoon. You just said he was delirious—not in his right mind. I can’t take advantage of him when he’s in that state.”

“You have to Seungcheol.” Wonwoo says, the sureness of his voice wavering under Seungcheol’s blunt indifference.

Seungcheol stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, his brow rutted in conflict.

“His heat will get more intense if you don’t.” Wonwoo murmurs, after a long spell of silence, “It’s too late for any suppressants now and the side effects are not pleasant either. He may not appear cognitive, but **he is** and he’s in extreme discomfort Seungcheol. His body is aching with a need to be mated. Right now his receptor cells are—“ Seungcheol ignores Wonoo's babble and concentrates on drying himself off and pulling on some dry clothes. Despite the cold shower, he's tired and warm, and his head is throbbing in a steady rhythm.

Seungcheol vents out a long, gravelly sigh. His shoulders slump and his head drops into his hands. “It just feels wrong to take him—he looks so weak and _helpless_.” Seungcheol says, his voice faltering.

………………………………..

Seungcheol searches through the back of his wardrobe and pulls out a plain paper bag, he brings it to the bed and sits down. He pulls out the receipt before anything else.

_Who’d have thought I’d ever drop $400 on a hybrid sex toy._

It seemed like a ridiculous idea at the time and he really had no intention of letting Jihoon rely on it completely during his first heat, but after that destressing, delusional episode in the shower—Seungcheol can’t bring himself to just take him. Not while Jihoon is so out of it.

He goes back to the bag and retrieves a box from amid a mass of sparkly paper. ‘HYBRID HEAT BUSTER’ the box informs him, in big, bright letters. He opens the box cautiously and his jaw drops at the size of the purple, ribbed toy. He pulls it out of its casing with frank trepidation, sweeps the box and bag off the bed and flips open the _‘Instructions’_ booklet.

The booklet, Seungcheol notes, is like 456647 pages long and is thicker than any of the ones that have come with any computer, television, DVD player or any other gadget he can think of. His cheeks flush and his eyes dilate in fascination as he skims over the _helpful_ diagrams that illustrate it’s use.

 _“Cheollie.”_ Jihoon’s voice is a caress, and Seungcheol all but feels it brush his crotch. Pure porn from a single, purring word.

Seungcheol blinks up at the sound of the rich velvet voice, gaze traveling from the grasp he holds on the toy, to hungry ebon eyes. He feels his breath catch in his throat, suddenly realizing that Jihoon is crouching on the other side of the bed, fully awake, alert and naked. His silky tail is swishing back and forth so lazily and the heat from his skin seems to radiate around him. 

Jihoon’s scent has changed—becoming heavier and sweeter and— _fuck,_ more intoxicating. It’s deeper than mere lust, more insidious, like an ink-stain spreading beneath the skin.

_Oh no._

Seungcheol's mouth forms halting words, even as the new scent threatens to swamp his thoughts and his cock hardens as desire sweeps through him.

Jihoon glides toward him on all fours, his tail curling and weaving in the air above him. Seungcheol nearly bites off his tongue at the sight, his fingers clenching on the soft bedding. A shiver races up his spine as Jihoon leans in, pressing warm soft lips to his, both moaning lightly at the contact.

_Why am I like this? Why do you turn me into this?_

Jihoon crawls up into Seungcheol’s space, the glow of his eyes narrowing as he slowly scents his counterpart, purr rough with lust and arousal. He tilts his head and slowly runs his tongue over the pulse beneath the skin of Seungcheol’s throat.

"Ah..." The almost-surprised exclamation sounds from Seungcheol as Jihoon’s firm lips suck at the pulse in his throat. Seungcheol lets him suck, even when he shifts and licks lines along his jaw, tongues the pulse just beneath. It feels too good, especially when Jihoon’s small hands are practically clawing at his shirt, not at all keen to let him loose.

“Seungcheol.” Jihoon purrs, the word a warm rumble on his tongue.

Seungcheol lifts from the bed and steps away, he tries to ignore the flash of heat across his skin as the petite hybrid’s scent slams into his nostrils, the distraction of the desire underlying his voice and the hungry flash of his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Seungcheol asks, his voice coming out shockingly broken after just a few seconds of contact with Jihoon.

The lithe hybrid advances slowly, eyes turning a deeper brown, the glow in their depths seeming to ripple and shift. “Hot all over. I feel hot inside and out Seungcheol. I feel like every fucking bone, every cell in my body is on fire. I’m so _thirsty.”_ Jihoon husks.

He reminds Seuncgheol of a panther, of some great big cat, as he prowls forward, licking his lips, his eyes intent on Seungcheol. There is really no other word for the measured, rolling steps or the light, feral grace with which Jihoon moves. He stalks like a predator, and Seungcheol feels another insistent twitch of his arousal at the sight.

Seungcheol swallows with difficulty, struck suddenly with a powerful twisting yearning that he has no name for, no definition. “I’ll get you some wate-“

“Not for that.” Jihoon interjects swiftly.

Seungcheol watches silently as the hybrid prowls towards him, his eye is drawn to the agitated flick of Jihoon’s cat ears, the furious swish of his tail. He tries desperately to keep his features indifferent even as he feels the hair at the nape of his neck lift, warning him of some vague yet impending danger.

“I’m thirsty for _you_ Seungcheol,” Jihoon says, his voice gone coarse. “Come here.”

Seungcheol wants to go to him, but he shouldn’t. The temptation is there, sharp and needy, like the pain of biting your own tongue. “Actually—I was thinking of giving you this toy. Maybe you can use it instead. Something to help you ride through the heat.”

Jihoon looks at him with round, horrified eyes. “Why can’t I just ride you?”

Seungcheol coughs, covering for the possessive growl fluttering in his throat, wondering for an innumerable time why he remains, why he doesn’t just walk away, why he is so swayed by the hybrid. Certainly, there is no mistaking his physical attraction. Jihoon is fucking beautiful and naked and needy and there is no shame in that. But there is something else, something more ephemeral that chains Seungcheol to the hybrid, something that batters about in his heart like a frantic sparrow.

“Well—the thing is Jihoon, I feel like you might be not _entirely_ in the right mind. Wonwoo said heats are delusional periods and I don’t feel comfortable taking advantage of you when you’re not thinking clearly.” Seungcheol explains, voice thin with uncertainty.

“Take advantage. I want you to! You _own_ me.”  His voice sharpens as elongated canines flash.

Seungcheol’s throat feels alarmingly thick, as if his guilt is a physical thing and has migrated up to strangle him. “Yeah—you see, I think that’s the heat talking. I want to help you Jihoon. I really do, but morally-“

A low snarl of frustration from Jihoon cuts him off, “Fuck morals! I _need_ you!” His tail lashes behind him, a far cry from its earlier teasing, curling dance. "Now put your cock in me, or I'll cut your balls off."

" _Okay_ —first of all, that would be _extremely_ counter-productive." Seungcheol explains, backing away slowly. “Secondly—It feels like with this heat fever, you’re not totally here.” He argues, trying to remain level headed; as if he can’t taste his heartbeat in his throat or hear the blood rushing in his ears right now. Having watched Jihoon’s behaviour carefully over the last few days, he’s reasonably sure he can predict the outcome of this battle of wills.

He comes to an abrupt halt, grunting as he is suddenly brought up short by the wall behind him. Jihoon presses close, a low purr deepening his voice. His hands ease up under the hem of Seungcheol’s shirt and Seungcheol could fucking  _melt_.

“You smell  _incredible_ ,” Jihoon breathes, even though that's supposed to be  _Seungcheol's_  line. He inhales hard through his nose, pushes Seungcheol flat against the wall and shoves a leg between his thighs.

“Thanks— _uhh_ —so do you. But _I am_ really concerned that I take advantage of you sometimes.” Seungcheol tries to reason. He hesitates, seeking precise wording and, failing to do so, simply blundering along as best he can. “I know I own you Jihoon, but I don’t want our relationship to be about that. It should be about mutual respect, independence, love and stuff.” Seungcheol says, fighting to keep his voice level when Jihoon tugs an earlobe between his teeth. 

“Oh ** _god_** , you’re so irresistible when you’re considerate!” Jihoon purrs, in a dark undertone, fixating on the entirely wrong thing.  Stretching up and deliberately rubbing his bare stomach against the bulging crotch of Seungcheol’s pants, Jihoon brushes his lips against Seungcheol's chin. “You have absolutely no concept on how to own a hybrid, yet you’re so fucking _amazing_ at it. You tell me everything I want to hear—then actually follow through with all of it. I _love_ being **_owned_** by you.” Jihoon hums as he sucks a mark into Seungcheol's skin. 

“ _Noo_ , Jihoonie.” Seungcheol says, digging his hands into his hair, trying to find the right words. “This is exactly the opposite of what I was trying to get across.”

“Are you having an ownership crisis Seungcheol—during my first heat?” Jihoon asks blandly.

“ _No.”_ Seungcheol says, realizing that the rising inflection is conveying the opposite of certainty.

“No?” Jihoon echoes. “That sounds suspiciously like 'yes', Seungcheol.” His mouth shuts so quickly and hard that Seungcheol actually hears the teeth crack together. 

Seungcheol sighs and his shoulders slump, “I just feel guilty ab-“

“Hush!” Jihoon’s dark pupils narrow and needle pricks of pain flair along Seungcheol’s shoulders as fingers flex and claws dig in. Jihoon hisses at the exact same moment he does, sharing air on the next breath. “It’s cute that you feel this way. You’re cute.” He digs the claws in harder, uses the leverage to drag his face up to Seungcheol’s throat, punctuating the words with sucking kisses.

He pulls back, panting, “That’s exactly what turns you on. That I belong to you and you can do whatever you want to me. Even if you are more considerate and kind then most hybrid owners, admit that you like being in control of me, that I _belong_ to you.” Jihoon says against Seungcheol’s neck, pulling him closer. _“You **love** it.”_ He continues, licking Seungcheol’s lower lip.

The true indignity of the situation is that Seungcheol really does. A stab of shame crooks in his gut. “You’re right—I’m a terrible person.” He says, guiltily shifting his gaze to the ground.

Abruptly, Jihoon softens, his body relaxing and returning to its liquid, flowing grace. The lashing tail slows and curls, stroking the air instead of scourging it as his frustration falls away.

The hybrid reaches up and touches Seungcheol’s face, sketching the strong curve of his cheekbone. Seungcheol closes his eyes, leaning into the pressure of Jihoon’s hand.

The look Jihoon gives him is raw. “Dammit, Cheol—you’re so, _ugh!”_ he growls softly. His pupils pulse between slits and saucers, tabby ears straining forward, intense. “Did you know, when you’re all gentlemanly and considerate of my state of mind and ask permission all the time—it’s a huge fucking turn on? _You make me wanna_ \--” the words are growled under his breath, three seconds before he reaches up to grab the back of Seungcheol’s neck and pull him down into a kiss.

It’s no-holds barred, teeth and tongue, breathless sounds in each other’s mouths. It’s sloppy and shameless and there is a light switch digging into Seungcheol’s back and  _Seungcheol doesn’t even fucking care_.

Seungcheol slides his hand down the warm curve of Jihoon’s side, feels the hands in his hair tighten in response. Half-undressed and panting, it feels like they’ve skipped at least half a dozen steps in the dance and he doesn’t even care, because Jihoon is purring under him, kissing him like it’s going to kill him if he doesn’t.

Seungcheol's thoughts grow more and more clouded with each heated kiss Jihoon steals from his lips; the lithe hybrid seems to be everywhere at once, fingers stroking intimately from chest to groin, rucking up his shirt, leaving the night air to strive in vain to cool the excitement in his body.

It was a cruel contest for him, wanting so badly to simply give in. Defeat, something that has never before appealed to him, now seems the sweetest reward. He gathers the supple body close, finding himself struggling against waves of all-consuming need as Jihoon’s tail slides seductively between his legs.

“ _Cheol_ ,” Jihoon whines through clenched teeth as Seungcheol grabs his hips, drags him against his thigh. The hard slide of friction makes the room white out.

“You’re so hard already.” Jihoon taunts, Seungcheol would laugh if he remembered how. He doesn’t waste his breath denying it, he buries a hand in Jihoon’s hair, tugging one soft ear as he drags him in for another kiss.

Seungcheol break away for air. “Why do you do this to me?” he asks, low, face pressed against soft hair and flicking ears as Jihoon sucks a dark mark onto his collarbone.

Jihoon arches his spine, pressing them together from ankle to shoulder. The narrow strip of skin to skin contact where Seungcheol’s shirt has ridden up is oversensitive, almost too much to have that intimate skin between their hips touching, and Seungcheol bites back a groan.

“I could say the same to you,” Jihoon says, slipping his hand low, palming Seungcheol over his pants, “Do you think it’s normal for me to lose control? I used to be in control of my emotions—but with you, I can’t hide anything. I want to climb you like a fucking tree every minute of the day—it’s a real pain holding back.”

And it’s right then, right there, that Seungcheol decides to give up whatever personal or ethical neurosis that’s been holding him back from this—from admitting to himself that he wants this, wants Jihoon. Because he does,  _god_ , he fucking does _,_ and he’s tired of fighting everything all the time.

Any doubts Seungcheol has lingering in the corners of his mind have disappeared in a lustful haze, and it's a matter of what now and what next and a fucking tidal wave of  _want_  sweeping everything else aside. It makes him bold enough to grab Jihoon’s hips and yank him forward, feeling the strong clasp of Jihoon’s tail around his waist.

Jihoon mewls, sliding the heel of his palm down the front of Seungcheol’s pants again. “Fuck,  _Cheol, need_ —” Jihoon breathes into his neck.

“This one-word vocabulary thing,” Seungcheol asks, as Jihoon undoes his zipper and works a hand into his pants, “Is that due to the swelling in your brain—ahh _ssss_ ,” The end of his sentence breaks off into a hiss when Jihoon fists a hand around him.

“Shut the hell up,” Jihoon murmurs. He sounds almost stern, but his eyes are luminous. Their mouths come together again, hot and wet and no space for words between them. 

Seungcheol groans into the kiss, his voice shaking and wrecked. He’s trying not to lose himself in the rhythm of the hand working on him, but it’s hard to keep any sort of sanity when Jihoon is doing these ridiculous things with his mouth, teeth grazing against the hard bone of Seungcheol’s clavicle, tongue laving at the cords of his throat.

Jihoon mouths at the bend of Seungcheol’s jaw, not even trying to hide his smirk as he works Seungcheol’s cock, rough, too fast.

They’re acting like a pair of fumbling, horny teenagers. Seungcheol is thrusting shamelessly into Jihoon’s hand, and Jihoon is grinding down onto Seungcheol’s thigh, and Seungcheol has no idea how this became his life. Unfortunately, he has no higher brain functions left to examine the situation, let alone course-correct it. All Seungcheol can do is let a very atypical set of sounds vent from his throat and then come in his pants.  “ _Fuck_ ,” Seungcheol cries, hot and loud. 

Jihoon joins in with his own chorus of obscenities a minute later, coming all over Seungcheol’s trouser leg. 

They slump against the wall afterwards, boneless and breathing hard. At some point, one of them laughs—Seungcheol’s not sure who starts it, but it really doesn’t matter. Within the space of two seconds, they’re gone.

………………………………………..

The first orgasm has almost instantaneous effect on Jihoon’s heat. He turns peaceful and pliable, as if all the precise, tension-riddled foundations of him have been abruptly rearranged. Seungcheol scoops him off the floor and into his arms, kisses him deep, deep as he can get, their tongues sliding together the way their bodies want to be.

He carries Jihoon's weight as if it's nothing at all, walking them back to the bed, lowering Jihoon to the duvet, and watching his legs fall open in tacit permission, leaking cock flat against his stomach.

“Cheol please,” Jihoon pleads, sounding out of breath, and Seungcheol stops in the middle of pulling off his own clothes to let his gaze take in the hybrid in front of him; the pale skin, unblemished, every curve and angle firm and perfect.

Helplessly caught, Seungcheol can only stare as that beautiful body undulates, muscles flexing and releasing, fur rippling, tail gliding and lashing, curling and stroking. “Fuck—Kitten, you look amazing.” He says softly, sounding honestly awed by the way Jihoon’s body twists for him so eagerly. Jihoon is already spreading himself open, thighs twinging and back arching off the bed. 

Jihoon doesn’t speak again but Seungcheol feels Jihoon call to him, a fierce ache lances down his spine as primal awareness washes through his senses. Scent became _tangible_ , a living thing coiling through his consciousness; an aromatic fragrance that sends his nose twitching. His skin seems to tingle with each breath of air that sweeps over from the hybrid lying on the bed.

Jihoon looks on the edge of breaking apart, and Seungcheol can't have that, can't have this be anything other than fantastic for both of them. He steps out of his remaining clothes and knees his way onto the mattress, touching Jihoon’s bent legs and easing them apart, sinking his weight on top of him.

“Please, please— _Cheol,”_ Jihoon says, his breath hot. “Need you—put your hands on me.”

Seungcheol leans back on his haunches, hands opening and closing mutely at his sides; he’s aching to touch Jihoon as much as Jihoon is aching to be touched. Finally,  _finally,_ he swipes his knuckles over Jihoon’s hipbone and Jihoon jolts under the touch like he’s been shot. 

“Yes,” Jihoon gasps. His cock throbs. “Touch me—touch me!” He whines through locked teeth. He thrusts up, his cock scraping against Seungcheol’s belly and he groans at the messy, unsatisfying friction. 

 “Like this?” Seungcheol murmurs, trailing the ridge of his knuckles over Jihoon’s body.

Jihoon is trembling now, nothing but long lines of skin under Seungcheol. The planes of his belly are slick with sweat and come, his thighs ever-so-faintly glistening with hybrid lube, nipples peaked and rosy beneath Seungcheol’s thumbs.

Jihoon palms himself, impatient. A whiny mewl builds at the back of his throat. “Don’t need prep. Don’t—just—fuck.” He’s shaking with the need to be gripped, kissed, torn up,  _something_. He's wet enough and loose enough that Seungcheol’s two fingers slide in easily, and three's a nice snug fit. 

“Eager,” Seungcheol hums, his tongue flicking at the edge of Jihoon’s ear. “I think I know just what to do with you.” Seungcheol flips him over in one quick movement, pressing Jihoon’s face down on the creaky mattress.

“ _Yes_ ,” Jihoon gasps as he takes in loud, hungry gulps of air.

Seungcheol drags the flat of his tongue down the rivets of Jihoon’s spine and Jihoon ruts shamelessly against the soft fabric of his sheets, moaning at the feel.

“You are so beautiful like this,” Seungcheol says, his mouth on the small of Jihoon’s back. Jihoon muffles a mewl when Seungcheol’s teeth graze over his ass.

There is no need to urge his legs further apart, as Jihoon is already way ahead of him, but Seungcheol is deliberately a bit of a tease about nipping along his thighs before finally using his thumbs to part him wide. “All wet for me already kitten, aren’t you?” he murmurs, and hears Jihoon’s breath shudder from him like he’s been slapped.

Jihoon loves this; never admits it, never asks for it, but always comes apart easy as anything when Seungcheol’s tongue touches him there. “Aren’t you?” Seungcheol asks again, letting his cheek grit along the sensitive flesh of Jihoon’s inner thigh.

“ _Yes_ ,” Jihoon gasps, tortured, hips snapping back piston-quick.

Seungcheol moves lower, his hands kneading him roughly apart. Jihoon lets out a high, shattered meow when Seungcheol’s tongue sinks into him then.

Seungcheol can’t believe it but he comes but a minute later, just from the friction of the sheets and the shock of Seungcheol’s tongue inside him.

Seungcheol gently rolls him over again, to face him. “Fuck—you really were dying for it kitten.”

Slender fingers lace with his own, gripping tightly, Jihoon’s gruff mewl sounding in his ears. “And you made me wait, you teased me— _again.”_ Jihoon huffs, drawing him in.

“No more waiting." Seungcheol growls, teeth in that readily bared neck. The heat in his body surges as his heart lurches. "I’m going to take care of you now. I’m going to come in your tight little ass and then do it all over again, till you can't stop begging for it. Fuck you any way you like just so long as I have my dick in you."

Jihoon lightly drags his nails down Seungcheol’s back. “Prove it.” He whispers, leaning up to crush their lips together, moaning at the taste of himself on the possessive tongue that thrusts into his mouth.

At the sound of the words, Seungcheol can’t stop himself if death himself where to ride up and demand his soul. One long satisfying glide sees him buried deep, Jihoon's muscles clenching around him like eager fingers beckoning,  _move, move, move_. The first plunging thrust of his hips tear twin howls from their throats as he buries himself to the hilt in liquid heat, the rough invasion sending bright shocks of pleasure and pain through both.

Snarling, Seungcheol repeats the motion, watching as Jihoon’s tail curls high and bristles as he sinks again into the tight inferno of his mate's body. Slender hips drive them on, all sense lost of anything beyond the thrust and grind of their bodies.

Seungcheol struggles to keep the pace slow, his teeth grinding together as he fights for restraint. Jihoon's guttural cries and slick heat urge him on; the tight rub and pull around him sending jolts of sensation up his spine. Jihoon's fingers clasp his shoulder tightly and he wraps his legs around Seungcheol’s hips to arch up and take even more. _"Ah—ahh—Cheol—Ch-Cheol!"_

It seems an eternity of blazing heat passing between them, but all too soon he finds himself ravaging the lush creature beneath him as his control crumbles.

The soft bristled tail slaps against the mattress as Jihoon cries out mindlessly, pleasure twining and curling along each nerve ending as Seungcheol’s hips tilt and send his cock stroking over his prostrate. His entire body trembles at each rub and caress, velvety strands of damp hair crush back against the bed beneath him as his head tosses from side to side. _"SEUNGCHEOL!”_

Snarling and hissing he drives towards completion, searing rapture blazing along each nerve ending as his vision distorts, unable to stop the growl that rips from his throat.  Reaching down, Seungcheol strokes Jihoon’s straining arousal until the small hybrid's mewls choke off, his body stiffening and tightening in climax.

The sudden clench of heat around his arousal sends Seungcheol over the edge, and he growls again, this time in utter bliss, surrendering himself to the slow, thrilling burn of Jihoon, emptying into that heat and fanning the blaze higher.

…………………………….

2) The second time Seungcheol takes him (true to hybrid refractory periods), is a mere ten minutes after the first.

“Again.” Jihoon implores, because the heat is still burning under his skin, only momentarily quelled by the satisfaction of being mated.

Seungcheol’s had many lovers over the course of his life. But nothing compares to Jihoon sprawled underneath him, one hand tangled with Seungcheol’s above his head and the other holding his leg open to steady himself as Seungcheol guides his cock in, inch by inch, until he’s all the way inside.

Seungcheol—who plans on making round two slow, careful, gentle—struggles to restrain himself through this heavy haze of need _._ But when he pulls out and slams inside of Jihoon with a growl, it feels like round one again—that same untamed frenzy, that raw-edged ecstasy.

Seungcheol’s sure they’ll shake apart the bed, but he doesn’t stop, he grips Jihoon, wondering how bright the bruises on Jihoon’s hips are going to be tomorrow. They try and say sweet things to each other, but the words end up torn to pieces. They come out as shards of sound—a groan that means  _yes_ , a mewl that means  _please,_ a hard, wet pant that means  _more, more._

There is something addictive about sex during heat, how Jihoon’s mewls tear him open until he can’t think, the way Jihoon’s scent fills his skull, takes up all the space under his skin. When Seungcheol is balls deep in Jihoon, he forgets about everything but the small body beneath him, aware of nothing but how they move and how he moves inside of him. It’s a beguiling sort of freedom. 

3) Even after the third time, Jihoon still feels hot and tight and when Seungcheol bottoms out, he opens his eyes and mewls.

 Seungcheol grins and kisses his cheek. “How are you feeling? Still good? Want me to stop?”

Jihoon hooks both his heels at the small of Seungcheol’s back, clenching his ass around Seungcheol’s cock as he returns his filthy smirk. “I feel amazing, stop asking.” Jihoon rolls his hips again, nipping at Seungcheol’s mouth. “ _Keep moving._ ”

4) The fourth time, Seungcheol doesn’t even ask, he moves all at once, in a full smooth stroke, into the hot clutch of slick-tight muscle. Jihoon utters his name in something that's nearly a whine, clenching around his cock, hands clasping at his shoulders. Those dark lashes brushing wine-red cheeks, lips wet and swollen.

Seungcheol has Jihoon under him, bending him almost in half. He's needy and perfect like this, with his thighs falling open and small, hushed sounds of pleasure steadily leaving his lips as he squirms down on Seungcheol's cock.

Seungcheol’s eyes lock on to the bite mark on Jihoon’s neck and he sinks in his teeth a little more firmly, sucking hard, and then Jihoon is bucking against him with broken little hitches in his breath and “Seungcheol, _Seungcheol—cheol!_ ” on his lips as he throws back his head and comes.

Seungcheol can’t recall ever being with anyone who’d called out his name quite like that.

5) The fifth time is more slow, almost gentle, even when Seungcheol carefully lifts Jihoon’s legs and hooks them over his shoulders. Jihoon pants against Seungcheol’s chin and makes gorgeous little sounds whenever Seungcheol pushes back in at the new angle. His thrusts are languid and rolling, unhurried and designed to take Jihoon apart with pleasure. 

Jihoon’s fingers stroke gently through Seungcheol’s hair, body surging rhythmically in time to each stroke of Seungcheol’s cock inside him. “ _Please, yes, fuck, more!”_  leaving him in words hardly more than breaths.

6) Jihoon is so also pleasantly vocal during round six.

He doesn’t even touch himself, the friction between his stomach and Seungcheol’s, too overwhelming. His scent is fading now, just a pleasant hum making Seungcheol slightly fuzzy-headed.

“Ahh—cheol—you’re amazing,” Jihoon gasps at one point, his voice breaking. He bites his lip around a moan—a moan that might possibly be Seungcheol’s name—and then Jihoon is shaking all over, crying out as his asshole flutters around Seungcheol’s cock.

………………………..

Somewhere between the sixth and eighth time, Jihoon arches up as he rolls over something on the mattress. He fumbles a hand behind his back and pulls out the discarded hybrid sex toy.

“I can’t believe you bought this.” He hisses, eyeing the toy with displeasure. Seungcheol thinks it resembles the ‘loathsome’ cucumber too closely to ever win favour with Jihoon.

“I had good intentions,” Seungcheol explains with a lopsided shrug of his shoulders. “And it vibrates!” he adds with a quirk of his brow.

“Ohhh!” Jihoon coos in wonder. “Still, if I was going to do this by myself—I would have just used my mouth.” He says sensibly, yet without any semblance of logic. 

Something about that sentence gives Seungcheol pause. He blinks at Jihoon, feeling off-kilter. Leaning up on his elbows to look at him he says, “Wait, what do you mean, _‘use your mouth’_?”

Jihoon laughs, skimming his tail down Seungcheol’s back. “I would have just licked myself.” He says, still sounding completely reasonable and yet making no sense whatsoever.

“ _What—what_? Elaborate, please god elaborate.” Seungcheol asks, pulling apart from Jihoon to look at him.

“Ya know—like this.”

Seungcheol watches Jihoon curl forward, then in one smooth and practiced move he rolls back, using the momentum to lifts his legs _up, up_ and _over,_ bending his spine impossibly until his knees hit the mattress just above each shoulder. The angle lines his cock head inches from his mouth and he clamps his hands down behind his knees to hold the position. Then his small pink tongue darts out to lap at the crown of his erection.

“Holy shit.” Seungcheol gasps, and Jihoon looks up from where he's mouthing the head of his cock, quirking a questioning eyebrow.

“What? Can’t you do it?” Jihoon says, and he has the gall to look smug.

It's not what he was expecting (He doesn’t know what he was expecting) but Seungcheol's cock jerks just the same, leaking a bead of precome. Further down the bed, Jihoon is slurping noisily and moaning.

Seungcheol’s mouth opens and closes, trying to pull something to say out from the air. “Fuck—“ he gasps, his mouth gone dry. “That is one **hell** of a talent, Kitten.”

Jihoon smiles at him, filthy and proud before his eyes flutter shut and he sucks the tip into his mouth with an obscene moan. Seungcheol stops breathing for a second, though his heart picks up double-speed, thundering along wildly.

Jihoon pauses his sucking and licking, letting his cock slip free as he cracks an eye open to find Seungcheol gawking at him. “Sorry Cheol, I’ll stop—this is no fun for you.” He giggles, releasing the backs of his legs to unfurl himself.

 ** _“NO!_** Keep going.” Seungcheol scrambles to keep him bent at that sharp angle, holding Jihoon’s legs still with a hand to his ankle.

“But I, “

“Please Jihoonie! This may just be the hottest thing I have ever seen. I want to watch you.”

Jihoon giggles coquettishly. “What happened to _‘Jihoon, you’re not in your right mind and I don’t want to take advantage of you!”_ he says, doing a terrible impersonation of Seungcheol _._  

Seungcheol ignores the barb—it's not undeserved under the circumstances.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not everyday I get to watch you suck yourself off. This is a rare treat.” He tries to sound at least slightly irate, but the awe creeps through clear as day. He’s seen Jihoon bent into almost unbelievable positions since they’ve started fucking, but Jihoon, Seungcheol is reminded yet again, is a ruthlessly underhanded little shit and kept this from him.

“Okay then— _just for you.”_ Jihoon says, with a little  _tut, tut, you pervert_  look in his eyes.

For all he's just come, Jihoon gets into it pretty quickly. He makes small noises, curls his toes and flexes his tail as he works. Seungcheol’s breathing quickens and his longing grows with every suck and lick he witnesses. After a few minutes, Jihoon releases his grip on the back of one knee to trail trembling fingers between the cleft of his ass and further back to tease the rim of his hole.

Seungcheol knows he’s not mistaken when he sees the glisten of slickness on his inner thighs.

“Fuck. You’re wet already, aren’t you?”

Jihoon nods frantically as he slurps and sucks his own cock.

“That’s so hot.” Seungcheol groans, jerking himself. It’s all the encouragement Jihoon needs as he pushes one finger inside himself with a moan.

Seungcheol has a splendid view of the whole thing. Jihoon’s head bobbing over his shaft, his pink slick asshole clenching around his fingers. It’s not quite porn—it’s not quite art. He doesn’t know how to describe it. The human in him finds it fascinating, the way Jihoon’s body can contort and pleasure itself. The sex fiend in him just finds it _hot as fuck._

Jihoon pulls his fingers out and then spreads his cheeks wide open, presenting himself perfectly in the air, “Are you planning on helping me out or just staring?” He pants.

Seungcheol does both. He reaches for the toy lying discarded on the bed and Jihoon vocalizes a mewl on the exhale when Seungcheol turns it on. He clearly hadn't expected this sort of contribution.

The toy sends little vibrations through Seungcheol’s arm, tremors he can almost feel through his knees and calves, sort of delicious.

 _Jihoon will love this._ He thinks

Jihoon must think it too, because he draws his hips up further, plants his knees more firmly on the bed to expose himself and resumes sucking on his cock.

Seungcheol doesn't use the toy yet. Instead he takes a minute or so to just tease Jihoon a little. He runs the toy over his legs, letting it vibrate against the back of his thighs, the base of his tail. Jihoon makes an aborted sound of desperation, moaning around his cock and twitching when Seungcheol drags it down the crease of his ass, pressing a little before pulling it back for a moment, to skim the head of it along the trail of hybrid lube slickening Jihoon’s thighs.

"Easy," Seungcheol says, his voice clipped instead of soothing.

He slips his hand around Jihoon's thigh to hold him in place, the other hand holding onto the buzzing toy as he presses it in, gentle and slow. The position Jihoon has taken prevents him from arching his back, but his body does jerk upwards and he sucks in a breath and comes alive like a current has gone through him. He tries to thrust up, tries to pull away like he can't decide, like both options pain him.

Jihoon’s cock slips from his mouth, he pulls back for a gasp of air as Seungcheol easily slips the ribbed toy inside of him further, twisting it slowly and pressing upwards. "Ahh—ahh—yes!"

"Good Kitty," Seungcheol says against his hip. "You're taking it so well. So pretty stretched around your toy.”

“Cheol! Feels so—good—Cheol—fuck me with it.” Jihoon's words degenerate into half-words and then just noises that no longer resemble any language Seungcheol has ever heard. His ears stand on end and his tail cracks and whips against his back.

“Keep sucking yourself Kitten, want to watch you come in your mouth.”

Jihoon meows and gently laps at his flushed cock, licking the pearls of pre-come off the tip; the sound of the toy buzzing loud in the room nearly drowning out his pleasured mewls.

Sweat has long since gathered at his hairline and his temples, his eyes are watering with the strain of the angle he’s bent in. Each push of the vibrating toy inside, drives Jihoon’s cock deeper into his mouth and Seungcheol can’t stop thrusting it into him, still fuzzy-minded with amazement that they’re doing this at all.

He watches the flush of Jihoon’s skin and the gleam of wetness between his legs as he fucks, teases and praises him every step of the way, until Jihoon finally cries out and comes, whimpering and jerking dangerously as he paints his chin and tongue with his own release.

Jihoon mewls and whimpers as Seungcheol eases the strain on his frame, rolling his legs down to lie limp on the bed. “ _Fuck._ ” he gasps, collapsing back against the sheets.

Seungcheol, meanwhile, is breathless and beaming down at him, sweat running down his face. “I hope you’re happy, because you’ve just ruined all kinds of kinks for me.”

…………………….

7) The seventh fuck is quick and breathless with Jihoon’s hands tangled in his hair, his mouth pressed against Seungcheol’s ear.

He’d heard Jihoon whisper shakily, “Wanna ride you Cheol.” And Seungcheol had made a sound, a cross between a groan and a laugh, shoulders shuddering, and then flipped them over and held Jihoon’s hips as he sank down on his cock.

8) Even after he comes, he still doesn't stop. Jihoon continues to bounce on Seungcheol’s lap, towards his eighth orgasm with abandon. Riding down onto him and clinging to him, taking him into the silky-hot clutch of his body until Seungcheol sinks his teeth into the side of Jihoon's neck and loses himself in it.

9) By the ninth time, Seungcheol’s pretty sure his dick is going to fall off—but he can’t help himself. He needs this. Jihoon needs this. Moreso— _Jihoon wants it_. Spreading his legs and guiding Seungcheol back in to that cum slick hole, moaning as Seungcheol swells inside of him into full hardness.

“I have no idea how I’m still getting hard.” Seungcheol pants, in-between shallow thrusts.

A minute? An hour? He doesn’t know how long they take but his release seems to last forever before his body finally succumbs to exhaustion and he collapses, sweat-slicked and gasping.

……………………….

“I think I just set a record. Like, for all of humanity. I think this must be a world first.” Seungcheol says, completely reserving modesty. “ _Damn_ —I should have recorded it.”

Jihoon gives a small chuff of laugher. “And submit it as an entry to some kind of freaky, hybrid sex competition?” he asks, nestling his face against the warm skin of Seungcheol’s chest.

“ _Maybe._ Or more just so that I can just look back on it and say— _I did that.”_

Jihoon just slips his fingers through Seungcheol’s and looks at him with amused fondness, “There’s always my next heat. You can record that. And maybe we can skip the whole ownership crisis next time too.” he says. He actually sounds very authoritative for someone who just had the stuffing fucked out of him.

“Yes, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Seungcheol murmurs against Jihoon’s forehead. He cups Jihoon’s face and dusts kisses across nose, his eyelids and the corners of his mouth.

Jihoon regards him solemnly when he opens his eyes, lifting a finger to trace Seungcheol’s lips. “Thank you Seungcheol—for helping me.”

“Jihoon, you never have to thank me for fucking you. I mean—I’m pretty sure it’s me who should be thanking you right now, so— _thanks.”_

“No. Not just the sex. You were really patient with me. I was insufferable over last few weeks. I know I was. I could _see_ that I was and I couldn’t help myself. I snapped at you and cried and scratched the post man,”

“And you kicked Mrs Chan’s dog into a bush.” Seungcheol adds, giving Jihoon the most serious face he can.

 _“Kicked Mrs Chan’s,”_ Jihoon’s eyes widen, then narrow, and all at once his brow furrows and his hand grips Seungcheol’s twice as hard.  “Smoochems had it coming!” He starts, but he seems mollified when Seungcheol laughs and shushes him.

 _“Shhh, shh._ There, there. Yes, he did, of course.” Seungcheol tucks the hybrid in against his side, pillows his head against his chest and falls asleep to the sounds of Jihoon’s soft, content purrs.

………………………………………

Seungcheol doesn't wake so much as he snaps back to himself. He finds he is wrapped around Jihoon so tightly he isn't sure if he has been trying to hold him, or crush him. Slowly, he makes himself relax, muscle by muscle, but Jihoon is stuck to him like a fucking barnacle. His arms are coiled possessively around him, one wrapped across his ribs, the other curled under his shoulder, his tail snug around his thigh. He snuffles just a little, nestling into the bend of Seungcheol’s neck. His hair is a mess. His expression is guileless, slack with sleep. His face is nothing but soft, open trust.

“Jihoonie.” Seungcheol coos, stroking a hand through the wild of Jihoon’s hair, looking at the sleepy beautiful mess of him. “You are so perfect, you really are,” Seungcheol says quietly, and mostly to himself. He leans over and kisses the dip of Jihoon’s temple.  He untangles the sleeping hybrid, limb by limb, and rolls him over carefully, stretching and feeling a welcome, warm ache all over.

He leaves Jihoon curled up in the bed, resting in piles of blankets and pillows, arranged into what can only be called a nest and pads his way out into the main room to update Wonwoo and order food.

……………………………………..

Seungcheol unpacks the delivery on the kitchen table. He’s about to pick up a tray to bring the food into the bedroom, when he hears a noise from behind. He looks up in surprise at Jihoon, who is both sleep-rumpled adorable and disapproving; eyes still owlish and hair tangled, cat ears drooping sleepily.

“Where did you go?” Jihoon says with no preamble, but he's not quite awake yet so it comes out jumbled and raspy. (Whedygo?)”

“Sorry, you needed to rest and I thought I should order some—“ Seungcheol pauses mid-sentence because Jihoon is staring at him like a hybrid possessed. Seungcheol is waiting for his head to spin around three hundred and sixty degrees like something out of _The_ fucking _Exorcist,_ when his ears prick forward, and he sniffs the air.

“What’s that?,” he says, tail thrashing. “Is that food?”

“Hmm—yeah, I ordered from outside” Seungcheol says, gesturing to the table.

“Food?” Jihoon repeats, clear-eyed now. He is beaming at Seungcheol like Seungcheol is the source of every good thing in the world. 

“I was speaking with Wonwoo and he said I need to make sure you eat to regain your energy. I was craving bur--”

And he doesn’t get to finish the sentence because Jihoon is suddenly double fisting cheeseburgers and biting into them wrapper and all.

“Jihoonie, Jihoonie, sweety—let me take the wrapper off for you.” Seungcheol coaxes Jihoon to release the burger for him to unwrap.

“I didn’t’ realise I was that hungry until I smelt the food,” Jihoon says, licking burger sauce off his fingers.

“Well, we did burn off a lot of calories, it makes sense.” Seungcheol says, tipping forward to smack a kiss right to Jihoon’s nose. Jihoon takes a giant bite of his burger before his scowl can collapse into a smile.

They sit at the kitchen table and eat a ridiculous amount of calories right off the wrapping paper while talking about: Jihoon’s growing friendship with the new hoover, why he can’t sleep inside the tumble dryer while it’s spinning clothes and the re-emergence of the cursed ‘Red Dot’ that occasionally creeps across the living room floor when Jihoon is trying to nap. (Seungcheol **_is_** very cunning and devious with that laser pen.)

Seungcheol wants to have ridiculous conversations like this every day. He thinks he and Jihoon are kindred in that way—both a bit too testing for their own good. But whenever they’re together, just the two of them, Jihoon brings out something in him that is silly, and he brings out something in Jihoon that is soft.

If you caught him on a particularly sentimental day, Seungcheol might say that they were meant for each other.

“I’m full—couldn’t eat another bite.” Jihoon states, slumping back in his chair to gesture at his teeny weeny food baby.

“Really? So, I should just dump this bucket of _Chicken_ out?” Seungcheol says, lifting said bucket of fried chicken into view.

Jihoon’s ears perk up at the sound of the word.

Jihoon has a strange relationship with chicken. Fried Chicken to be specific.

_He presses his face up against the window and meows as they drive past the ‘Perfect Fried Chicken’ shop—and of course that means Seungcheol offers to pull in and buy him a mini bucket._

_“No, it’s fine, I’m fine. I just ate like an hour ago, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”_

_So Seungcheol shrugs his shoulders and drives on. He can’t miss how Jihoon looks longingly in the rear view mirror, lower lip trembling with loss._

_Seungcheol sighs and makes a U turn and says, “Well, I want chicken so I’ll get a bucket for myself.”_

_Jihoon sighs. “Fine, I’m okay though—don’t get me anything.”_

_Then Seungcheol orders a bucket in the drive through and asks Jihoon to ‘hold it’ for him while he drives._

_Conclusion: Jihoon eats all the chicken, Seungcheol doesn’t get a single piece, but gets scratched for his efforts._

“So—I’m just going to bin this bucket?” Seungcheol repeats, hovering the bucket over the trash.

Jihoon holds his hands out, making grabby hand motions like a mother who’s just seen her newborn child for the first time. Seungcheol chuckles and delivers the bucket into Jihoon’s arms.

Jihoon caresses the bucket tenderly, “I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He says, soft, like a confession.

“Aww, it was my pleasure Jihoon,” Seungcheol says, his eyes creasing with a smile.

“What? Not **you**! I was talking to the chicken.” Jihoon snaps grouchily.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, smiling until his dimples crease. “Shall I leave you and the bucket of Chicken alone. Do you want to take the bucket to bed with you?” He asks, somewhere between appalled and amused.

“Maybe I will.” Jihoon says, smirking, shoving a piece of chicken gracelessly into his own mouth. “You know, you and Chicken are kinda the same.” He muses, pointing at Seungcheol with a piece of chicken.

Seungcheol gets up, clearing the debris off the table, along with the now messy tablecloth. “Oh yeah? Is that because we’re both finger licking good, delicious and fill you up so good?”

“No,” Jihoon smirks sideways at him, taking a loud slurp of his milkshake. “You’re both really greasy and leave me with so many regrets.” Jihoon deadpans. Then he giggles so hard he nearly tips off his chair.

“You are such a shit,” Seungcheol says, but he’s laughing too, scooping Jihoon up and kissing him. “Come on, let’s run you a bath.”

…………………..

The water turns on with a mighty whinge of pipes.

The fever has left Jihoon weak as a—well—as a kitten, actually. Shaky on his feet. He leans heavily against Seungcheol as he fills the bath and Seungcheol wonders how he ever got up to the kitchen in the first place. His legs are like custard that hasn’t set properly, wobbly and unreliable.

“I want you to have a bath with me.” Jihoon mumbles a little petulantly.

“Jihoon—I would love that. But as you can plainly see, the tub is just not big enough for the both of us.” He argues reasonable as Jihoon whines quietly into his chest. “I’ll buy a bigger tub and have it fitted for next time—okay?”

Jihoon tips his head up and mewls at the ceiling pitifully, as if it has answers to his problems. Then his ears perk up and he regards Seungcheol innocently, “ _Maybe_ —maybe I’ll shower with you instead?”

Although it’s his suggestion, he sounds less than enthusiastic about the idea, and Seungcheol can't really blame him, considering his little fit of deliria earlier revealing all sorts of things.

Seungcheol blinks in surprise. “What—are you sure?”

“If you don’t leave me, if you hold me and pet me.” Jihoon says, sticking his lower lip out, ready to plead his case—not that he needs to, Seungcheol is ready to do anything for him at any given moment.

“Alright—I can do that.”

Seungcheol drains the tub and flips the shower on. Through the rush of the shower, he can hear Jihoon draw a sharp breath as he maneuverers them both into the large, tiled shower. Jihoon does jerk in surprise when they dip under the spray of hot water, but Seungcheol perseveres, trying to ignore the hybrids repeated involuntary mewls of distress as the first droplets hit them.

It takes a good five minutes for Jihoon to calm down from the hysterics, another five for Seungcheol to fully unstick them from each other with gentling pets and murmurs.

"Warmer," he croaks and stands trembling against Seungcheol, barely able to stand on his own as Seungcheol runs a wash cloth over him and presses easy, open-mouthed kisses between his shoulder blades.

Soon enough the cloth is discarded and Seungcheol runs his bare, soapy hands smoothly all over Jihoon, rubbing him down from top to bottom while Jihoon braces himself with his hands against the tiles. He’s managed to soap his arms and chest when Jihoon drops his head and seems to relax fractionally.

Seungcheol gets on one knee to gently wash his thighs, and looks up at him. Jihoon's eyes are closed, ears twitching delicately in his wet hair. A slight smile lingers on his mouth, a bit amused, affectionate. Intimately cared-for. Seungcheol can't help but kiss his stomach, strangely chaste, considering his position. At this, Jihoon purrs a quiet, "Cheol."

"Are you gonna sleep standing in the shower? " Seungcheol says, rising to his feet.

“Maybe—if you keep this up.”

Seungcheol slips an arm around his back to reach for the shampoo bottle, flicking it open. He adjusts the shower head to spray on them directly and Jihoon almost vaults from the cubicle with a hiss, ears dropping flat against his skull.

Seungcheol boxes him in between his arms, corralling Jihoon into the corner, manoeuvring them so Seungcheol will take the brunt of the spray, while Jihoon remains shielded from it behind his frame. Jihoon appreciates the gesture, nuzzling and butting his head affectionately against Seungcheol’s bare chest.  His tails twitches idly every now and then, flicking off water droplets gathering on his fur.

He’s fucking adorable like this. Seungcheol considers telling him as much, but he’s not entirely certain Jihoon wouldn’t slap him if he did. "Head back kitten." Seungcheol orders, squirting a generous dollop of shampoo into his hand. He works it through Jihoon's soft hair, and around the shell of his tiny ears, the scent of it familiar and aching at the same time.

“See, showers can be nice. How’s the temperature?

Jihoon hums thoughtfully. He closes his eyes for a few moments, then opens them again. “It’s good. Could be hotter.” He says, voice scratchy.

Seungcheol turns the water up as hot as it’ll go (despite probable scalding) and Jihoon lets Seungcheol give him a shampoo mohawk (despite scowling wrathfully through the ordeal).

They shower in a pleasant haze, Seungcheol relishing the feel of Jihoon’s warm slippery body against his in the water, the sleepy, satisfied curve of his lips as he scrubs him down and rinses his hair.

There must be traces of heat still lingering in his system because a quick hand down Jihoon’s waist reveals a burgeoning erection. He plasters himself up against Jihoon from behind, nose burrowing into the soaked hair at the nape of his neck, fingers sneaking over his slim chest to play at his nipples.

Jihoon meows quietly, as Seungcheol flicks his thumbs over the sensitive buds. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes.” He pants breathlessly.

Seungcheol presses Jihoon forward against the tile, working him open with two fingers and then three.

“Cheol,” Jihoon says when Seungcheol moves in behind him, his cock a point of firm pressure against his opening. “I really like showers. There’s not nearly enough bubbles but I think we should have showers together more often.”

“Anything, anything you want,” Seungcheol promises, sliding a palm down the damp line of Jihoon’s spine. He starts thrusting in one warm millimeter at a time and soft, hungry noises roll out of the back of Jihoon’s throat. 

Seungcheol’s last orgasm was like a speeding truck hitting him at 100mph. This one is a low-revving engine, a sleek black car purring its way up the pavement. He feels it collecting in the flats of his feet, in the cage of his ribs, in the space between his shoulder blades.

“You feel amazing,” Seungcheol murmurs, kissing Jihoon at the place where spine meets skull. “You’re so gorgeous, Kitten. So happy that you’re mine.”

Seungcheol grunts into Jihoon’s neck when he comes. Jihoon follows, spilling all over the chequered tile. Seungcheol lets his weight fall forward against Jihoon, closing the empty space between them. They stay pressed together like that, listening to the water pour down.

_At least this is a better shower memory for him then--_

Jihoon squirms against the tiles before he lets himself finish that thought.

There’s half a centimeter of water standing on the bathroom floor by the time they’re finished, slopped over the side of the tub and dripping down Jihoon’s, lovely legs as he braces himself against the sink and lets Seungcheol towel him off.

Seungcheol watches him, examining the naked lines of his skin. His hair hangs in sleek tendrils about his face, fat droplets of water clinging to the ends. He makes a startled little noise when Seungcheol scrubs the towel over his scalp, and Seungcheol can’t help but kiss him, cradling his wet, heavy head through the cloth.

When Jihoon’s as dry as he’s going to get, Seungcheol cocoons him in fresh towels and shepherds him back to the bedroom. When they’re dry and dressed, Seungcheol turns off the lights and climbs back into bed, settling next to Jihoon. He gropes around for the sheets, tucks the hybrid against his side and pulls the covers around them both as best he can without expending too much energy.

“Jihoon?”

“Hmm?” Jihoon says, already half-asleep.

“In the shower earlier, when I was trying to cool you down, you said something that I can’t stop thinking about.” Seungcheol reminds, his thumb drifting circles over Jihoon’s hipbone.

“If I said something hurtful, it was probably just the heat. Unless it was about your taste in music.” Jihoon says, yawning. He slides his fingertips down Seungcheol’s arm.

“No, it was something else— **wait** , you don’t like my taste in music?!” Seungcheol guffaws.

Jihoon sighs, even though there is a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Listen—it’s just a bit, mainstream. But I’m learning to-”

“Mainstream?!” Seungcheol tries not to sound too aghast.

“Ok—if it’s not in the charts, you’ve never heard of it. It’s like you can’t decide for yourself what is good without some radio DJ telling you!” Jihoon says, nuzzling the pillow, letting his eyes drift close.

Seungcheol looks long-sufferingly at the ceiling. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I have acquired a hipster hybrid.” He deadpans.

Jihoon giggles. “I’m _not_ a hipster.”

“These sheets aren’t from a thrift store by the way—sorry about that. And I’m sorry I’ve been ordering our groceries from the soulless, mega million capitalist chain store instead of our local market! And if I’m being really honest, I hate recycling, I don’t give a shit about my carbon footprint.” No matter how it sounds to his own ears, Seungcheol refuses to admit that he might be sulking.

“Stop, I’m not like that.” Jihoon paws his chest, purring delightfully as Seungcheol definitely sulks. “So, if it wasn’t music. What did I say?”

Seungcheol looks at Jihoon. He takes the time to catalogue everything— the lax shape of his mouth, the tired flutter of his lashes, the particular way his ears droop as he slips into slumber. “It’s okay, we can talk about it later.” Seungcheol confirms, giving him a drowsy smile.

Within a minute, his breath evens out, falling low and heavy in the quiet between them.

After what feels like a century of tentative hesitation, Seungcheol touches him. He skims his knuckles over Jihoon’s skin in a cautious exploration—up the climb of a shoulder, down the slope of a rib. It’s clumsy, the touch. There is no finesse to it, no purpose. It occurs to Seungcheol then that he’s never really had the luxury of touching someone without purpose until he had Jihoon. He’s never touched anyone else this way before—slow and easy, just to do it. It’s nice, Seungcheol thinks. Nicer than he would have thought.

“I love you.” Seungcheol says, too low to be heard even if Jihoon were awake.

 

……………………………………….

Recovering from their exertions isn’t immediate. It’s a slow surface out of a day-long dream. A rise to brief awareness to gulp in a breath of air before sinking under with exhaustion.

Fatigue hits them both the following day when all the adrenaline and heat pheromones leave their system. They spend most of the day in bed—actually sleeping for once. The only disruption is a phone call from Wonwoo about his lab results, that he _must_ discuss with Seungcheol in person, and a sharp knock on the door.

“He— _hello_?” Seungcheol says, looking squinty eyed and suspicious at Jeonghan standing on his doorstep.

The other man gives him a cool look up and down and Seungcheol can only imagine how he presents himself; shirtless despite the cold weather, dishevelled and flushed.

“Good evening, Seungcheol.” Jeonghan greets amiably, despite giving Seungcheol one of those condescending looks he excels at. Seungcheol immediately wants to punch him. Just on principle. “Or maybe it’s good morning for you? You look like you’re still wearing your pyjamas.”

Seungcheol scowls at him. “I _am_ wearing my pyjamas.” He replies.

Jeonghan lifts his eyebrows at him. “And—you have scratches all over your shoulders.”

“Whaddya know. I _do_ have scratches. I never noticed. Got so swept up in the awesome, endless sex I couldn’t feel them.”

Jeonghan opens his mouth to argue with him, but then he snaps it shut, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “We’re just back from a month long honeymoon in Paris—the city of love.” Jeonghan says uncomfortably, blatantly trying to guide the conversation into something more familiar. 

“Oh, that’s _right._ You guys got _married_. Congratulations. Please be sure to pass on my deepest _commiserations_ to Joshua.”

“I will—thank you.” Jeonghan answers, clipped and failing to rise to the bait.

 _“Cheol!”_ Jihoon whines, padding quietly out into the hallway. There’s a small pout on his lips. Damp hair is curling across his forehead and he’s wearing a washed out T-shirt and some shorts, tail swishing furiously, ears laid back. “I want—,” He pauses and then, “What’s **he** doing here?” he says, suddenly tense, like maybe he’s is in some kind of trouble but Seungcheol can’t quite figure out what.

 _‘He’s come to buy you back.’_ Seungcheol wants to quip, just to see Jihoon bristle adorably, but instead what comes out is: “Jihoonie—no need to get snappy. Jeonghan was just—wait, why are you here?”

“Hello Jihoon.” Jeonghan calls out, waving a hand at Jihoon. Jihoon narrows his eyes and then hisses. “Hasn’t lost a bit of his charm I see.” He says, his voice soaked in sarcasm.

“Cheol—when you’re finished taking out the _**trash**_ , come pet me.” Jihoon says, his tail curling suggestively in the air behind him as he trails his fingers along the line of his collar before turning away and skipping into the living room.

Jeonghan lets out an indignant sound, and Seungcheol does his over-dramatic laugh, throwing his head back to really get into it. 

“He seems more agitated than usual. Then again—living with you is bound to agitate him.” Jeonghan quips.

Seungcheol is trying to figure out how to tactfully phrase _‘He’s just been reamed raw for two days straight’_ when his brain helpfully supplies.  “He’s just a little cranky cause he’s had his first heat.”

“Oh.” Jeonghan’s face melts into something approaching actual concern, and he leans forward, to speak in a low voice. “And how did that go? Did you put him on suppressants?”

“No. I just let it run its course. Where do you think I got all these scratches from.” Seungcheol leers, grace and subtlety both well beyond his reach.

Jeonghan is looking at him with a _‘really? really?’_ look on his face. He doesn’t care. “Ahh!” Jeonghan flusters, rolling his eyes a little, like he already has Seungcheol all figured out. “Should have seen that coming, you did seem awfully irritated at the notion of having him neutered.”

“Why are you here?” Seungcheol asks at last.

“I just came over to drop this off. Sorry it’s late, but it arrived a few weeks ago while we were on our honeymoon.”

“What is it?” Seungcheol says, his forehead creasing as he examines the folder.

“It’s Jihoon’s documents. His medical records and history file from Pledis Pets.” He explains. “Heavy stuff in there. I hindsight, it would explain why we got him for such a bargain price.” He adds. His tone is different now, all the playfulness gone.

Seungcheol waits a few seconds for him to admit he’s joking, but either Jeonghan’s comic timing is particularly awful or he’s actually serious “Oh. What do you mean? What’s in it?”

His face, when Seungcheol looks at it first, is stony and utterly unreadable, then Jeonghan sighs impatiently, a touch of irritation marring his icy inscrutability. “Well, I don’t know if it’s my place to say.”

Seungcheol throws him a glance that spells out exactly how unhelpful that information is “Okay—thanks. I appreciate how cryptic you are with your foreshadowing.” He says, letting a little venom into the words. 

“Good luck.” Jeonghan doesn't add  _you're going to need it_ , but it's very strongly implied.

Seungcheol nods his goodbye and closes the door. He’s about to toss the file on his desk in the study, but a niggling curiosity has him opening the folder and flipping over the first page.

** Pledis Pets Bio **

**Name:** Lee Jihoon/Woozi  _(What? Woozi? That’s—adorable?)_

 **Species:** Feline

 **Breed:** Perpetual Kitten _(aww)_

 **Blood type:** AB-

 **Origin:** Omega Labs; no longer in service. _(Hmmm)_

 **Certificate of authenticity:** Missing/NA

 **Original/Clone/Generic copy:** Presumed original; insufficient data.

 **Previous owners:** Two

 **Criminal convictions:** One; information enclosed.

_What? What? WHAT?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) RIP Seungcheol's dick  
> 2) RIP Jihoon's butt  
> 3) Sorry, cliffhanger.  
> 4) Long chapter is long!  
> 5) Feedback is always appreciated, even though this was a smuffy chapter


	8. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looooonnnngggg.

Jihoon has a criminal conviction?

This, Seungcheol knows, is the sort of thing that should broadside him and leave him reeling for days. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but his mind immediately goes to the worst place possible.

_Jihoon has murdered his previous owners. Probably in some chicken starved rampage._

Seungcheol's chest twinges with an uncomfortable itch of apprehension at the idea of Jihoon keeping him deliberately out of the loop. But Seungcheol is also self-aware enough to admit that the undisclosed danger isn't the reason this revelation gnaws at him.

It's the fact that Jihoon doubts him enough to keep secrets from him in the first place.

The thing about secrets, Seungcheol knows, is that the longer you keep one, the harder it becomes to share it. It becomes muscle memory glued to your tongue, basic instinct hard-wired into your brain. You guard it, hoard it, let it fester and rot until it’s too poisonous to share.

Seungcheol doesn’t want secrets between them. He knows his devotion to the hybrid is bordering on _‘spoilt rotten’_. It's been a hell of a long time since he's had any idea how to say 'no' to hybrid. He never once doubted that he would do right by Jihoon—that he would care for him like the precious thing he is. If Jihoon had told him the truth from the start, he would have accepted it without flinching, and the fact that Jihoon doesn't see that…

It stings a little.

He slips into the study, closing the door behind him with a quiet click, before flipping the folder open on the desk. He immediately flips to the police record enclosed.

_ _

_ _

_A can of tuna? Seriously? Panic over I guess._

Seungcheol feels stupid for the way relief unfurls in his stomach, warm and low. He squares the papers back into the folder, pausing briefly to read another document.

Seungcheol stops reading there because he starts to feel weird about it.

He normally wants to know everything about everything, gets off on holding all the cards, but this feels wrong for some reason. It’s strange to be in possession of so many facts about Jihoon, none of which Jihoon himself told him. And the stranger part is that none of those facts actually add up to the hybrid Seungcheol knows. There is no mention of his droll sense of humour, his over-the-top bashfulness, the adorable eagerness to please. At some point, all the facts become scrawls on paper. Jihoon isn’t in them, not really.

When Seungcheol walks back into the front room, Jihoon is stretched out on the floor, lazing on the rectangular patch of sunlit carpet.

“What did he want?” Jihoon asks, stifling a yawn

“Nothing, just dropping something off.” Seungcheol deflects breezily. “Why are you on the floor kitten?”

“It’s warm here.” Jihoon points out reasonably

“You know where else is warm?” Seungcheol says, sitting on the couch and winking at the hybrid.

Jihoon sits up quickly, rolling gracefully on his knees. “You’re lap? You’re _arms?”_ he murmurs silkily, crawling across the floor with measured strides until he’s on his knees immediately before Seungcheol, until he barely has to tilt his head back to meet his eyes.

“My _heart_ —which is always open and _bleeding_ for you.” Seungcheol confesses theatrically.

“Oh—god.” Jihoon says in that peculiar tone of his that sounds like the vocal equivalent of an eyeroll. “It’s a good thing I’m just a hybrid and not an actual cat and lactose intolerant to your extreme cheesiness.” He says blandly.

Seungcheol pouts. “Are you going to sit on my lap and get a belly rub or not?”

Jihoon’s expression does something funny, settles itself between a laugh and a glare. “Belly rub? I’m a feline hybrid Cheol! Not a dog!” he argues.

Of all the things he’s personally learnt about Jihoon, the most interesting is his attitude towards petting. All the articles he’s read, all the people he’s spoken to assure him that feline hybrids are tightly restrictive when it came down to petting. They’re meant to be arrogant and untouchable, only permitting a select few to pet them and only ever for a short period. And despite that, Jihoon climbs gracefully into Seungcheol’s lap, landing a light kiss on the apple of his cheek.

Seungcheol reaches down, splaying his fingers across the warm skin of Jihoon’s stomach, just soaking in the contact for a second before rubbing firmly. He does his best not to feel smug, but it’s hard not to when his only answer is a pleased little groan.

Seungcheol moulds the hot hollow of his palm over Jihoon’s hip, stroking lazily. “How does that feel—Are you loving life right now?” He asks, breath ghosting across the shell of Jihoon’s ear.

“This is awful, as I predicted.” Jihoon responds, but a smile is audible in his words and from the breathless sounds he’s making, the question of cats and belly rubs has been unequivocally resolved.

When Seungcheol cranes his neck to peer at him, Jihoon’s smile is a small, gentle thing, infused with quiet pleasure. “You’re right, you look like you’re in tremendous discomfort. I’ll stop.” Seungcheol jests, retracting his hand slowly.

Jihoon mewls in protest, leaning back against Seungcheol’s chest to paw at his cheek, entreating. Seungcheol chuckles at the silent request but curls his fingers possessively around Jihoon's hip, drawing circles on the hybrids belly with his other hand.

The silence that falls between them is relaxed, easy.

“You know you can tell me anything?” Seungcheol says after a few moments of gentle petting.

“I _know_.” Jihoon says, looking at Seungcheol in that incisive, impossibly sharp way he does.

“Anything—like, it’s not going to change how I feel about you.” Seungcheol feels compelled to point out.

Jihoon raises a dubious eyebrow. “Okay—thanks. That’s sweet.”

Seungcheol gently kneads his fingertips behind Jihoon’s ears, his lashes dipping and his mouth curving into a small smile. “Even if it’s something insanely unbelievable. It won’t matter. I’ll still love you.”

Jihoon yawns and bats a paw at Seungcheol’s hand. “You talk too much Cheollie.”

Seungcheol snorts. He could just come out and ask Jihoon about his history, about his file. But that conversation, like many others, is best left for a later time. So, for now, he’ll remain in a strange limbo of knowing and not-knowing, suspended in his state of complete acceptance and not-quite-understanding.

At the end of the day—it doesn’t matter to him anyway.

………………………….

Seungcheol doesn’t make a habit of spending time with crazy scientists, but Wonwoo’s been making an intermittent appearance in his life since he’s owned a hybrid, and more often than not, he acts as Seungcheol’s first port of call when it comes to the wonderful wacky world of hybrids. It just so happens that Wonwoo is more than happy to share his knowledge on the matter.

But one day, soon after Jihoon’s heat ends, Wonwoo calls him up and says a number of uncomfortable things about _‘experimentation’_ , and _‘hybrid demonstrations’_ , and _‘we’re going to need two hybrids for this’_ , and Seungcheol's panic kind of shuts down his listening abilities. When he realizes Wonwoo is talking about an actual scientific experiment and not, in fact, seducing Seungcheol into some strange kind of hybrid orgy, he is so relieved that he agrees to it immediately and doesn't ask anything else about it.

It's still comes as a bit of a shock when Seungcheol opens his front door expecting Wonwoo, to find a giant, hybrid puppy running up the steps. Seungcheol only has a second to register the massive grin on its face before it dives through the open door, knocking Seungcheol flat onto his ass. _“What the fuuck!!“_

Seungcheol’s always wanted a dog, but he was never allowed to have pets growing up, never really had time or patience for one after. This hybrid looks like some kind of overgrown Alsatian/Rottweiler mix, so he sort of expects to die when the hybrid jumps on top of him. He doesn’t die, though. Just winds up with a lapful of friendly puppy.

“Hello Seungcheol! It’s nice to meet you!” The hybrid yells loudly in his face.

“Uhh—hi?” Seungcheol replies gallantly, a bit thrown that this strange new hybrid knows his name. “Nice to meet you _also?”_ He manages to say, right before he gets a face full of puppy drool. _“Gross!”_

Who knows how long he’s lying there, flailing pathetically, trying to shove the stupid thing away from him or at least get it to stop licking his face, when he hears Wonwoo’s unmistakable voice calling out, “Mingyu! No!”

The hybrid immediately backs off, but not before it gives Seungcheol’s cheek one last lick.

“Mingyu—control yourself!” Wonwoo berates. “Sorry about that Seungcheol.” He apologises, grimacing as he lends Seungcheol a helping hand off the floor. “I hope you don’t mind but I brought Mingyu along for demonstration purposes. He gets a little over zealous when he meets new people, but he’s really very gentle.” Wonwoo explains, the fond exasperation in his voice hinting at the rich dynamic of their relationship.

Seungcheol waves him off, unfazed. “It’s okay! I don’t mind.” He assures, wiping the drool of his cheek with the back of his hand. “Come on in.” He gestures for Wonwoo to follow him into the house.

Mingyu muscles past him into the living room, taking a brief look around before raising his nose in an obvious sniff. Something in his expression shifts, almost  _calms_ , and he turns back to face the two men.

The hybrid is tall, taller than Seungcheol, but not as broad. His hair is mostly coloured brown except for a tuft of rust fur between his ears. He’s strong, obviously. Strong enough to knock Seungcheol onto the floor with a friendly greeting, but Seungcheol watches him shifting restlessly on the spot, tail whipping through the air excitedly.

“So, is he like—a special breed of giant security guard dog?” Seungcheol asks in a lowered tone.

“Hmm? Who, Mingyu? No, he’s a puppy.” Wonwoo says it so matter-of-factly that Seungcheol can’t tell if it’s a joke or an actual opinion.

Seungcheol jerks back in surprise. “You’re kidding right? He’s fucking huge!”

Wonwoo shakes his head emphatically, “Mingyu’s one of the research assistant hybrids at Hyb/Labs. His species is ‘overgrown puppy’—but somebody got experimental at the design stage and he was bred too large and too friendly for mass distribution. He’s what we call—a _failed_ hybrid.”

Seungcheol blinks, working that through, “Too large—I understand because, he’s pretty large. But—too friendly? Really? Is that— _that— **that,”**_ Seungcheol stammers, trying to ignore the fact that Mingyu has now dropped on all fours and is sniffing his crotch. “—that’s my crotch he’s sniffing.”

Wonwoo drops his gaze, seemingly registering the intense breach of personal space and flushes from head to toe. “Mingyu! What did we say? Dear lord!” He snaps, holding his hand melodramatically to his forehead.

The disapproving tone seems to lure Mingyu’s attention away from Seungcheol’s genitals.  “Oh—yes, I must ask for permission. I forgot— _sorry.”_ He say’s hurriedly, climbing back on his feet. He turns his big brown eyes on Seungcheol, displaying the sincerity natural to adorable animals who want something they know they can’t have.  “May I sniff your crotch?”

“ _Uhhh,_ ” Seungcheol drawls, drawing out the vowel a bit uncertainly. “—how about we just stay friends?”

Mingyu twitches a disinterested ear. “My friends let me sniff their crotches.” He says, jerking his head towards a flustered Wonwoo.

“Oh God! Remind me why I thought it was a good idea to bring you along?” Wonwoo adds pointedly, blush burning hot on his cheeks. His tone is tart but the look in his eyes is fond, the exchange clearly a familiar one as Mingyu turns to him in mock-resentment.

 ** _“Really?_** Well, that’s—uhhh, sweet and all—but maybe we can just settle for a handshake?” Seungcheol suggests. Mingyu approaches to take the offered hand, shaking it in greeting. It’s a quick touch, a firm clasping of palms and fingers, but the hybrid smiles brighter after, a pleased, almost sly look in his eyes.

“Now can I sniff your crotch?” Mingyu asks with renewed hope.

“No.” Seungcheol dismisses flatly.

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo sighs gustily, hand coming up to lift his glasses out of the way to press cool fingers to his eyes. “Please, focus on why you’re here.”

“Yes—sorry. I forgot, I just got excited.” He says, turning to face Seungcheol again. “I always get excited when I meet new people.”

“It’s cool—flattering, a little weird, but hey, I’m an easy guy.” Seungcheol says, then hears the unintentional innuendo and backtracks. “Easy as in **friendly.** I’m a **friendly** guy. Not **too** friendly though— **regular** friendly.” Seungcheol pinks slightly, and changes the subject. “So—my results?”

“Yes, we’ll get to that in a minute Seungcheol.” The answer is immediate, as if Wonwoo’s been sitting on it for some time. “I have the results in this envelope. But—before I reveal them, I need to demonstrate something.” He announces with enthusiasm.

“Wow—I feel like I’m on Dr Phil.” Seungcheol chuckles.

Wonwoo gives him a concerned squinty-look. "Dr—Phil?," he says slowly, like Seungcheol's a moron.

“You know—Dr Phil. Where people try and solve their private disagreements publicly on television. Where they do the paternity tests and he pulls out the results super slowly and says. ‘You are----- _not the father!’._

“I do not own or watch television. I only read.” Wonwoo says, with almost no inflection in the words.

Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose, “Jesus Christ—you are so fucking boring.”

“Tell me about it!” Mingyu chirps in. “Last night, I wanted him to try this position I read about. But he said he couldn’t possibly bend that way.” he pauses, looking up to sniff the air surreptitiously. “Anyway, turns out, with a little effort—Wonu is pretty flexible.” He finishes and Seungcheol has to blink at the sudden turn of conversation.

“MINGYU!” Wonwoo gasps, looking very uncomfortable.

“Wonwoo—did he just say what I think he just said? Isn’t it highly unorthodox to sleep with your science experiments or something?” Seungcheol teases.  

Now Wonwoo looks more uncomfortable than ever. Possibly constipated. He refrains from spluttering, but just barely. “He’s the one who started it! I was just checking his vitals one day and he bent me over a desk—I’m not having this discussion!”

At that admission, Seungcheol’s amusement finally breaks through its restraints. He throws back his head and laughs. “Oh Wonu, Wonu, Wonu.” Seungcheol titters, gently nudging Wonwoo in the ribs with his elbow. This is the best possible mocking material he could have dreamed of. “You dirty dog.”

Wonwoo ducks his head, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. “As I was saying—“ He deftly changes the subject, getting immediately down to business even if he is dying of mortification on the inside. “I would like to confirm my hypothesis. Although I’m more than certain it will prove I’m right, I thought a demonstration would make it easier to explain to you.”

Seungcheol is still laughing under his breath but nods to acknowledge the point. “For my experiment to work, I need you to allow Mingyu to sniff Jihoon’s butt.” Wonwoo says.  

Seungcheol doesn't respond right away, just stands there like an idiot waiting for the other shoe to drop, but Wonwoo doesn't say anything else either and Seungcheol realizes he's waiting for an answer.

“Come again?” Seungcheol manages to ask eventually.

Wonwoo leans in closer to Seungcheol and whispers, “I need you to allow Mingyu to sniff-“

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, but lowers his voice to match. “I heard you the first time fine Wonu. I was just giving you an opportunity to retract your suggestion before I pound you with my fists.”

“It’s a fairly well established field of observational research,” Wonwoo replies, lifting his hands placatingly. “There is a purpose to the demonstration.”

Seungcheol honestly can’t tell if Wonwoo is fucking with him or if he’s completely mental. He’s smirking a little, but he always seems to be doing that. Seungcheol continues to gape at him. When no further explanation proves forthcoming, he says “And what’s the purpose?”

_A hybrid orgy?_

“Science!” Wonwoo says with such quiet confidence that Seungcheol believes him even though this whole situation is insane.

“Uhh—fine, but Jihoon’s not going to like it. I can’t be held responsible for all the scratches Mingyu accumulates when Jihoon gets snappy. He doesn’t play well with other hybirds—or animals—or humans come to think of it.” And now that he’s making lists (a very long list) Jihoon doesn’t like cucumbers, Vacuum cleaners, Chandeliers, Thursdays, imitation cheese, the word moist, garden hoses….

“I take full responsibility for the experiment. I just need you to comply to the request.” Wonwoo interjects.

Jihoon has approached while they talked, obviously hearing his name mentioned. He’s shy, hiding behind Seungcheol’s back, peaking around and blinking wide, curious eyes at the familiar face of their visitor then twisting up to observe the spreading warmth on Seungcheol’s face.

“Jihoon, you remember Wonwoo.” Seungcheol says, trying to coax the hybrid out from behind him.

“Hi Wonwoo,” Jihoon waves, a small smile gracing his features briefly before he tenses, registering the overgrown hybrid in the room. He stops and sniffs and glares in Mingyu’s direction.

Jihoon is not afraid of dogs, per se, but he’s not exactly used to them either.

" _Who_ ," Jihoon says, jerking a thumb at Mingyu, "is he?"

Mingyu’s face breaks into a wide, indulgent smile and he practically jumps on the spot, plainly excited to have another hybrid to play with. He reaches out to poke the kitten, but Jihoon loathes unfamiliar attention, flattening his ears against his skull, baring needle-sharp canines each time an unsolicited hand strays too close for comfort.

“And this guy with no personal boundaries is Mingyu,” Seungcheol gestures at the now-quietly excited pup, whose stubby tail is wagging at all the attention “—He’s a puppy hybrid.”

“A _failed_ puppy hybrid.” Wonwoo adds needlessly.

“Yeah—so, be nice. _He’s Wonwoo’s boyfriend.”_ Seungcheol loud whispers with a wry twist on his lips.

The feral danger fades from Jihoon’s face, but the suspicious squint remains. “Okay. Hello Mingyu. Nice to meet you.” He monotones, holding a hand out for Mingyu to shake.

“Hi—!” Mingyu greets, reaching out to shake Jihoon’s hand.

Wonwoo clears his throat, quietly. “Mingyu— _the experiment.”_ He jerks his head subtly towards Jihoon, indicating the start of the demonstration.

Mingyu blinks, briefly confused. “Oh—wait, yeah. Uhh—can I please sniff your butt?” He asks casually.

Stunned, Jihoon bristles and jerks, but Seungcheol is careful to keep his expression neutral—or as neutral as he can when all he wants to do is throttle the canine hybrid on the spot. “Is this some kind of Joke?” Jihoon snaps, turning his gaze to Seungcheol.

Seungcheol has to swallow hard, keep his expression carefully blank. “No.” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

Jihoon spears him with a knowing look, “You’re just going to let him sniff my butt?”

Seungcheol shrugs his shoulders again. “Sure, I mean—it’s no big deal.” He says, letting a casual tone belie the churning in his gut, the crazy rhythm of his heart.

Jihoon studies him, and whatever he sees in Seungcheol’s expression must fail to mollify him, because he sighs again, almost exasperated.  “Fine.” His face is the definition of long-suffering, but his claws are sheathed and sharp fangs remain tucked away.

Jihoon turns forward and lifts his tail slightly, hesitant. Mingyu advances cautiously and Wonwoo  begins scribbling in his notebook.

Seungcheol tries to watch everything at once, he tries to look over Wonwoo’s notebook to read his notes, to make this experiment worthwhile and actually learn something, but he can’t quite get past the weirdness of it all enough to pay very close attention. He misses that Wonwoo in fact is not studying the two hybrids—but studying him.

"Go ahead Mingyu—sniff him," is all Wonwoo says. Mingyu steps closer, reaching out and lifting Jihoon’s tail.

Seungcheol doesn't miss the way the simple touch makes Jihoon 's eyes go wide in panic. He doesn't miss the way it sets something loose in his own chest either—something sharp and instinctive and furious, telling him to _kill-kill-kill._

Just as Mingyu drops down to sniff around the base of Jihoon’s tail. Something vicious unravels inside Seungcheol, shaking free the dregs of sleep, an unspeakable power that grips him tight and raises him up.

Seungcheol is already on his feet growling, a study in sharp-lined, cold-burning fury. His arm is outstretched before he knows what he’s doing, muscles straining as he grabs the hybrid in a tight chokehold, twisting Mingyu effortlessly until he’s forced to drop to the ground to escape his grip. Unsatisfied with his escape, Seungcheol advances on the canine hybrid once more and Mingyu yelps loudly, the look in Seungcheol’s eyes have him taking a step back.

“Seungcheol—Stop!” Wonwoo’s words flow over him in a wash of sound. The geneticist jumps back as Mingyu yelps and darts behind him to hide from Seungcheol.

At Mingyu’s retreat, Seungcheol drops his visceral response, and the growling recedes, the intense feeling of possessiveness cutting out like a light.

“Are you okay Seungcheol?” Wonwoo asks quietly. Carefully. Like he's standing too close to a caged tiger.

Seungcheol just blinks, a little startled and more than a little mortified to have reacted so harshly to a minor intrusion. Although—it didn’t feel minor at the time. And Wonwoo, bless him, must see the panic in his eyes because he quickly lays a calming hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder, any trace of fear gone. In fact, his calmness is so complete it’s almost offensive, really, and it makes Seungcheol look absolutely mental by comparison.

“It’s okay Seungcheol, you’re okay.” Wonwoo placates, watching him with new eyes, a dawning watchful, wary realisation. Mingyu is keeping a careful distance from him, and Seungcheol tries not to mind.

Jihoon on the other hand, seems utterly unfazed. If anything, he seems happy about the burst of aggression. His purr is a rumble of heat, a sign of his appreciation of the outburst and it goes straight to Seungcheol's dick. Seungcheol takes a step back and away from his hybrid. They're on dangerous ground. If Jihoon touches him now, there will be nothing gentle about his response. It will be possessive and vicious. It will be human strength bruising delicate hybrid skin, uncontrolled violence and desire.

Seungcheol wants it so badly his bones ache.

He steps back further, pulse unsteady, breathing uneven. He rubs his hands on the tops of his thighs, avoids looking at anyone. “I’m sorry—uhh—I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do.” Wonwoo says, finger tapping a considering tempo, gaze thoughtful on Seungcheol. “It’s called ‘atavism’” He says, deliberately stretching out the words for the benefit of Seungcheol’s inferior brain cells.

Seungcheol mentally braces himself for the flow of words that he knows will come next.

“Atavism is an evolutionary throwback. We use it to describe the re-emergence of primal traits that have disappeared in previous generations. It demonstrates itself in numerous ways, but for you, it’s obviously exhibiting itself as an over—aggressive response to competition.” Wonwoo pauses to gauge Seungcheol’s reaction. He is nearly breathless, quivering with nervous excitement, like a kid showing off his first science-fair volcano to the judging panel.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes but gestures with one hand for him to keep going. The other hand is now occupied with restraining Jihoon, who seems intent on scaling Seungcheol like a tree, nuzzling the crown of his head under Seungcheol’s jaw. For one second, Seungcheol is tempted to throw Jihoon down on the couch and take him. Thankfully, higher brain functions kick in and promptly inform him that would not only be (a) incredibly stupid and (b)  _incredibly inappropriate_ , it would likely also send the entirely wrong message. Still, it’s a close thing.

Excitedly, Wonwoo fleshes out the staid bits of data entrenched in Seungcheol’s DNA results and then some. “Most primal traits in humans that have disappeared phenotypically, do not necessarily disappear from the human DNA altogether. The gene sequence often remains, but is inactive. Sometimes, the dormant genes can be reactivated by a stimulus.”

Seungcheol sighs heavily. “You’re losing me Wonu.”

Wonwoo rips open the envelope, showing Seungcheol a bunch of graphs of medical gibberish, one hand waving expressively to emphasize his points, “Here is an analysis of your DNA. As you can see here,” Wonwoo points at non-descript figure, “you have elevated levels of certain hormones in comparison to the standard sample. You also have substantial portions of an archaic genome dubbed ‘Denisovian’ genome. This is a primitive gene that triggers your aggressive response to a threat, desire, or need. I came across an interesting study about it as I was reviewing the sample. It concluded that hybrid owners are more likely to act aggressively in response to threats because close contact with their hybrids has activated this previously dormant, primitive gene. If it affects aggression, it’s like to affect any response controlled by hormones. Like your heightened sexual appetite, energy level, sense of smell.”

Seungcheol strokes his lips with a two fingers, pondering. “So—I’m not a hybrid?” he asks, interrupting whatever inane thing Wonwoo was about to say next.

Wonwoo chuckles softly, “Alas-no. That would have been an interesting discovery. To put it simply, all these changes you have been experiencing have been triggered by Jihoon. You sensed his discomfort with our experiment today—your primitive aggressor gene acted to protect him.”

Seungcheol withdraws, settling back into his chair, and he bares his teeth in the semblance of a smile. “Great—I’m so glad I’m going to kill the next person who looks at Jihoon funny.” Seungcheol says tightly.

Wonwoo pats him reassuringly on the shoulder. “You’re not a hybrid Seungcheol. You’re not bred to behave in a certain way, your decisions are conscious choices—even if you feel like you don’t have control over them. You still retain a higher level of brain function, it’s just temporarily, your vision tunnels. You need to learn to control those impulses, those baser passions. It will take time, but you can do it.” Wonwoo says, just as confidently as he says everything else.

“I hope you’re right.”

………………………

Seungcheol waves goodbye to Wonwoo and Mingyu from the doorstep. The door clicks softly shut, and Seungcheol starts to turn, Jihoon's name on his lips along with a question he hasn't finished forming.

He doesn't get to complete the movement. Jihoon is there too suddenly, pressed against his chest like an intimate caress.

“Did you hear what Wonwoo said Jihoonie? You’ve turned me into a primitive cave man who gets possessive and violent when challenged—and I was already kinda like that to begin with. You’re going to have to help me control my baser passions.”

Jihoon is looking at him with calm eyes, lips turned up at the corners. He rests one hand on Seungcheol’s cheek, distracting and warm, and his lips are a pretty, tempting shade of pink.

“I can do that. _Although_ , I don’t see why it’s necessary.” He whispers. His tail wraps around Seungcheol’s back just a little too low to be decent, guiding his hips to press forward even more brazenly.

A low sound rumbles from Seungcheol's throat, a heavy growl that reverberates in his chest. His eyes narrow, and he reaches for Jihoon, threading strong fingers in his hair. It’s like a dam bursting in a bright, violent instant, and Seungcheol’s mouth claims Jihoon’s in a wrenching kiss. Jihoon opens for the kiss instantly, for the claiming thrust of Seungcheol’s tongue and the possessive hint of his teeth. Seungcheol yanks his head back roughly and Jihoon thrills at the rough handling, his eyes fall closed as he submits to the kiss.

Seungcheol breaks away soon, touch falling gentle in the moment it takes Jihoon to catch his breath. Seungcheol doesn't retreat, but drops his forehead onto Jihoon's shoulder with an inelegant thump.

"What’s the matter Seungcheollie?" Jihoon says in a surprisingly soft tone.

“It turns you on—doesn’t it? When I get aggressive like that.” Seungcheol concedes without straightening up. He expects Jihoon to take offense at the declaration, he's not expecting Jihoon to giggle, but the sound is bright and warm and pleasant. He fixes Seungcheol with a long look—desire in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

"Oh, Cheol," he murmurs, trailing his fingers along his cheek and then down to caress his jaw, “Lots of things you do turn me on. But I’m not gonna lie— _that was really hot.”_

Another thrill beneath Seungcheol's skin at the implication. It's possible his sex drive is wired a little wrong. Nevertheless, he rumbles in approval, hiking Jihoon up so that his legs can wrap around his waist. 

……………………………….

Seungcheol confesses the entire revelation about Jihoon’s criminal record to Wonwoo two days later, at a corner deli with file folders and papers strewn across the table between them. Wonwoo wants to run some more experiments. Seungcheol just wants to eat lunch.

“A can of tuna?”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo quirks an eyebrow over his coffee. “That’s it?”

“I know right. Talk about false fucking alarm. I thought he’d killed his last owner or something.” Seungcheol laughs, raising his eyes from his food and realizing Wonwoo hasn't stopped looking at him. The man's face is inscrutable, but his eyes are intense.

“Maybe he did. Maybe they haven’t found the body yet Seungcheol. They’re not reported as dead until there’s a dead body.” Wonwoo suggests cryptically.

“Can you shut up please? I didn’t share this with you because I need to panic more. I shared it with you because I thought it was an extreme reaction to stealing a can of tuna.”

Wonwoo hums in his throat in subtle agreement. “Any offence is treated severely when it comes to Hybrids. Let’s just say the government doesn’t make it easy for them to live a rich full life. There has to be bigger consequences for minor violations, to keep them subdued.” He explains. “What else did you read in the file?”

“I kinda stopped reading after that. Didn’t feel right.” Seungcheol explains. Wonwoo seems to be looking him over, but his face is so utterly devoid of expression that Seungcheol can't tell what he’s thinking.

“What?” Seungcheol asks angrily, not liking the whole silent judgey thing Wonwoo is currently embracing.

“You didn’t read the rest of his file?” Wonwoo observes after a minute. It sounds like an accusation. 

“He’s not my pet Wonu, he’s my boyfriend. I’m trying to get that information across to him. If I start prying into his history without his knowledge, that trust is gone. I want him to share this with me— _willingly._ Even looking at that police report was a mistake. Even though it has put my mind at ease, I still feel guilty about it. All this information they have recorded about him—it’s not—him. It’s a snapshot of him in a few moments of his life and if he doesn’t think it’s important enough to share, I’m not worried.”

Wonwoo seems to frown at his flippancy; disapproval emanates from him like a wave. “That’s very honourable of you Seungcheol and I understand where you are coming from—to a degree. However, you are still his owner. You are responsible for him. There is information in those files that is important, otherwise pledis wouldn’t have compiled them.

“Hmm—I’ll think about it.” Seungcheol dismisses the unwelcome advice innocently around a mouthful of food.

“As an owner you should be knowledgeable of your pets or companions history. You need to read more.” Wonwoo presses, stubbornly refusing to let the point drop.

Seungcheol thinks he would like to know more about Jihoon’s past. Especially his previous owners. There must have been some level of abuse happening for Jihoon to be so afraid of so many meaningless things.

When he looks up again, Wonwoo just stares at him, head cocked to the side like he’s trying to figure out a particularly hard chemistry equation. “Do you ever consider enrolling him in a hybrid finishing school?”

Seungcheol promptly chokes on his sandwich. There is a short silence, both in the conversation and inside Seungcheol head. "I'm sorry," he says after a moment, and then he has to clear the scratchiness out of his voice after dislodging a chunk of bread.  “Sorry, —I misheard. I thought you were suggesting I enrol Jihoon in a hybrid finishing school.”

Wonwoo’s disapproval waves take on a sharp edge of annoyance. “That’s IS what I said.”

“Oh.” Seungcheol says, bracing an elbow on the table as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He is confused enough by the concept to ask, “Is that like—where they learn letter writing and embroidery, elocution lessons and debut in a big ball?”

Wonwoo scoffs and shakes his head, as though Seungcheol has just said something pitiably naïve. “ _Noo._ Hybrid finishing schools help hybrids adjust to a social environment. They’re targeted at hybrids who are treated as companions by their owners. They help them build social and life skills for everyday use so they can be contributive members of society.  You must remember, hybrids are bred to be pets, it’s only recently that a shift in roles has occurred. Companion hybrids have a greater degree of freedom with their owners and occasionally they struggle to function with no barriers limiting their lifestyle.”

“That, doesn’t sound half bad.” Seungcheol muses. “Jihoon would hate it of course, but it might be good for him to socialise with other hybrids. He hates most people that aren’t me.”

“Even me?” Wonwoo asks disbelievingly.

“He barely tolerates you. But you’re higher on the friendship ladder than most.”

Wonwoo actually laughs at that. A quiet chuckle that brightens his face and makes his eyes squint around the edges. “He **is** very shy.”

“He’s definitely not shy in bed.” Seungcheol’s brain hears his mouth say, and he immediately wishes the words hadn't left his tongue.

Wonwoo just quirks a meaningful eyebrow and rolls his eyes. “Thank you for that unnecessary piece of information Seungcheol. You—definitely cannot be accused of bashfulness on any level.” He censures, though there's a tone of amusement there.

“Listen—I don’t have anyone else to share this information with. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Yes, truly I am honoured.” Wonwoo deadpans, though there's no eye roll to accompany the opinion this time. “Anyway, thanks for lunch. I better get back to the lab. I’m trialling a new hormone suppressant that—“ he pauses, “who am I kidding? You don’t care.”

“You **are** clever. You better hurry, don’t want to keep Mingyu waiting.” Seungcheol says, a teasing tilt to his voice.

Wonwoo collects his papers quickly, muttering under his breath. He’s trying to look exasperated, Seungcheol can tell, but there’s a smile trying even harder to take over his face.

………………………………..

Seungcheol leaves work early on Friday after a severe storm alert is announced for the city. He doesn’t want to try his luck driving through it later and as it is, the rain is falling so heavy and so fast he can hardly see more than a car length in front of him. 

He also wants to be there for Jihoon.

The hybrid never fares well in stormy weather. He bristles at the sound of gushing rain, hisses at the sight of lightening in the distance, then scrambles into Seungcheol’s arms and mewls at the sound of the accompanying thunder. If Seungcheol isn’t at home, he calls him at work—and mewls over the phone! Somehow the sound of Seungcheol’s voice is reassuring and gentling enough to appease his fears.

When he pulls up into the drive and climbs out of the car into the pounding rain, Seungcheol almost steps on a small bundle of grey and white fur that dashes under the car. For a moment, he thinks nothing of it—there are strays in the area and one must be seeking shelter. But as he slams the door shut, a pitiful meow from the vicinity of his feet has him looking down at a small cat. He kneels to examine the sorry creature.

And what a sorry creature it is. A shivering, mewling ball of matting, waterlogged fur.

Seungcheol coaxes the cat to come out from under the car by whistling and clicking softly, before bundling it up in his jacket and heading into the house.

When the two of them stumble through the door, dripping wet and more than a little unkempt, Jihoon rushes into the corridor “You’re home! I was so wor—“ He pauses, then gapes for a moment before pressing his mouth into a thin line.

“Look what I found huddled under the car?” Seungcheol prompts, pushing off his soaking wet jacket.

Jihoon’s expression is indecipherable even to Seungcheol’s trained eye. It morphs rapidly through a series of emotions before settling on poorly-restrained irritation. “A filthy, mangy, dirty cat. That probably has rabies. Leave it outside please Seungcheol and strip so I can torch your clothes.”

“Leave it outside…” Seungcheol trails off disbelievingly, shaking his head. “No—I can’t do that! It’s lost and scared, we need to dry and feed it”

Jihoon freezes, takes a deep breath, and Seungcheol can tell just by the flicking of his tail that he’s getting annoyed, trying not to show it. “Why?”

Seungcheol sets the cat down on the floor. “We can’t just leave it outside.”

Jihoon looks at him as if Seungcheol is being confused and maybe a little stupid. “Yes—we can. Here, let me show you.” He says, striding past him to open the front door again. “Get out of our house you filthy animal or I’ll claw your eyes out!” he hisses angrily, pointing from the cat to the entrance of the house.

“Jihoon!” Seungcheol gasps, reaching down to pick up the mewling cat. “What’s wrong with you! Why are you being mean to a member of your own fa-“

“If you say family—I will make you regret those words very dearly Seungcheol.” Jihoon advises, voice heated.

“Uhmm—ok. Why are you being mean?” Seungcheol points out reasonably.

Jihoon glowers at Seungcheol and the tiny offender. His tail is out, flipping, jumping, agitated and restless behind him. It’s clear he doesn’t want to be having this conversation. “Why do you want the cat so bad?” He asks, and there’s a note of nervousness to his tone that has Seungcheol laughing, a short burst.

“I don’t. I just don’t think we should leave it outside in the middle of a thunderstorm when it’s clearly owned by somebody, look at its collar.” Seungcheol holds up the cat again so it's eye level with Jihoon, and he sighs, annoyed, but looks at the domestic animal. 

“The name tag says Horatio Hornblower.” Seungcheol chuckles.

Jihoon snorts indelicately, but refrains from comment.

“Since when did fluffy or mittens go out of fashion?” Seungcheol muses, meeting silence with more words.

Jihoon paces angrily across the small floorspace and continues like he hasn’t heard Seungcheol. “If it has owners, they’re probably looking for it. They’re not going to expect it to be in somebody’s house. You should leave it outside. So that it’s owners won’t miss it.”

“I’m not keeping it Jihoon. But we can keep it safe until the storm clears. Then let it go.”

Jihoon’s tails is lashing now, agitated by the turn of events. “Fine” But once the storm clears—I want it out of here.” He hisses, huffing and stomping down the corridor. He goes to the bathroom, because it’s his customary place for a tantrum, and slams the door behind him.

“Don’t listen to him Horatio. Jihoon’s just cranky because he’s afraid of thunder storms.” Seungcheol explains with a mix of resignation and amusement coloring his voice as he walks into the kitchen.

………………..

The storm outside is building fast. The harsh rain lashes at the windows and the raging thunder rumbles overhead. The signs of an oncoming power cut are evident, and the room lights above them flicker several times in quick succession. 

Even though both Jihoon and Horatio share some genetic traits, they react to storms in very different ways. 

Right now, the storm is clearly beginning to affect Jihoon’s better judgment. There's a lot of flailing,  running and squealing going on. He hides under the kitchen table for a spell but a bone-shaking crash of thunder relocates him from that hiding spot to the wardrobe.

The bathtub is next, but soon he abandons that outpost for the comfort and reassurance of Seungcheol’s lap. After a particularly close lightening strike, he can be found cowering under Seungcheol’s t-shirt—while Seungcheol is wearing it.

“My T-shirt can’t protect you Jihoon. Not from the wrath of the Thor!—ahh, claws!” Seungcheol hisses as Jihoon scratches him in retribution.

Horatio on the other hand, makes his home in the corner of the sofa. When a bolt of lightening strikes the tree outside his house, he lifts his head, twitches an ear at Seungcheol, and curls right back up.

“Hey—hey Kitten, it’s okay.” Seungcheol gentles Jihoon, coaxing him out from under his T-Shirt. He does his best to calm the hybrid, stroking his hand down the line of his back. “We’re safe inside the house. It’s going to be okay. You’re a big kitten now, you shouldn’t be frightened by the weather.”

“I can’t help it Cheol! It reminds me of when I--” Something hesitant flashes behind Jihoon's eyes, something quick and scared and gone again so fast Seungcheol almost thinks he imagined it. He wonders what Jihoon has to be scared of, what he can possibly think his words have given away that Seungcheol doesn't already know.

“Jihoonie, tell—“ Seungcheol begins but midway through the sentence lightning arcs across the dark grey of the sky, filling the room with blinding white light, like the flashes of a million cameras bursting at once.

The effect it has on Jihoon is instantaneous. He ducks under Seungcheol’s t-shirt before the after image of the flash has even faded. His tail hairs stand on end as electricity fills the air and his whole body turns rigid with fear.

A crack and boom of thunder follows so loud, it rattles the windows of the house and makes Jihoon tremble and mewl. “We should head to bed early Jihoon. That way, when you wake up, the storm will have passed.” Seungcheol assures.

“Okay.” Jihoon nods.

................................

Seungcheol lets the hybrid lead him down the corridor to their room and helps him settle in for the night. He’s about to climb in himself when…

A loud crash echoes from the front room, followed by a scrambling clatter, and then silence. Seungcheol sighs and moves to check on the disturbance.

“Where are you going?” Jihoon whimpers, scooting forward on the bed until he can raise huge, wide eyes to Seungcheol’s face.

“I’m just going to check on that noise, I think Horatio tipped something over.”

“You’re going to leave me?” Jihoon gasps, ears pointed intently forward. His face twists in a frown, as though he is judging Seungcheol and finding him sadly lacking. 

“Just for a second, just to make sure he hasn’t been injured.” Seungcheol acknowledges with a slight dip of his head.

“What if I get injured while you’re away Seungcheol?” Jihoon snipes childishly.

Seungcheol narrowly avoids rolling his eyes “I’ll be just a second Jihoon—I just need to make sure the cat isn’t wreaking havoc outside.”

“It will be fine. It probably just wants you to open the door for it or something—just stay with me.” Jihoon whines, tail bristling and snapping behind him.

“Jihoon.” He casts about, arms thrown up in exasperation. “I’ll be a minute okay—relax.”

Jihoon just stares at him with serious eyes and says, “Fine— _whatever.”_

Seungcheol quickly retraces his steps back to the front room. His eyes scan the area for the disturbance. Horatio is still in his perch on the couch looking somewhat perplexed, but a stainless steel bowl is overturned on the hardwood floor.

_He probably wanted more food._

Seungcheol picks up the bowl and re-fills it quickly. He sets it down near the couch just as the thunder rumbles again, loud and deep and the lights in the entire house flicker out.

_Jihoon…._

“Fuck!”

Sure enough, a loud, shrill mewl fills the air. Seungcheol abandons Horatio, fumbling for his phone to light the darkened hallway. “Jihoon, I’m coming baby, just relax.” He calls out, following the unhappy noises Jihoon is making back to the bedroom.

His phone doesn’t illuminate the corridor sufficiently and he stubs his toe on the door frame.

“Double fuck!” Seungcheol hisses, mostly to the darkness. It's ridiculous, he's navigated the corridor a hundred times, and now suddenly he has no idea how far away everything is. He manages to stub his toe a billion times as he stumbles towards the bedroom. When he reaches his destination, that is the exact moment the power comes back on in a harsh click of sound, and painfully bright light.

“Ah—fucking typical!” Seungcheol vents angrily.

He winces when he catches sight of Jihoon: a tiny lump, trembling under the mass of blankets.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry.” Seungcheol appeases, lifting the cover off the hybrids head.

Jihoon is still for a long moment, with only a twitching tail tip to indicate his great displeasure. Then finally he turns his head up at Seungcheol, blinking up at him. He hasn’t started crying, Seungcheol notes with relief, but his eyes are rimmed red and his irises are tiny pinpricks of blackness as small as Seungcheol has ever seen them.

“Youleftmeinthedarkyoujerk!” Jihoon squeals, words came out in a rush, blending almost indistinguishably together. He pauses for a deep breath, then the rush of words continues. “Youleftmeinthedarkandyoupromisednottoleaveme!”

“You can see in the dark!” Seungcheol says incredulously.

He’s pretty sure Jihoon is gearing up to literally rip his face off with his teeth, the fangs are definitely getting longer, white glints in the almost-dark of the room. “Not as good as that fucking cat can. The cat you left me to care for!”

“Jihoon. I did not leave you for the cat.” Seungcheol mutters under his breath. Then slightly louder, “I just went to check on the cat and the lights happened to go out.” he says, unable to stop the defensiveness that creeps into his tone.

Jihoon pouts but doesn't argue against the truth of it. “Well I hope your precious cat is safe, because I nearly died.” He grumbles as he blinks, his eyes watering slightly.

“Look—I’m sorry. I’m here now. Let me hold you. I’ll make you feel better.”

“ **Now** you want to hold me.” Jihoon hisses, smacking his hands away. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to-“ Jihoon begins, his sentence is cut off as a clap of thunder vibrates around them and instead of finishing berating Seungcheol, he claps his hands around his ears instead, shuffling backwards until his back is up against the headboard.

Seungcheol moves quickly to comfort the small hybrid, pulling him into his arms. “It’s okay—I’m sorry. I’m not going again. I’m here.” he tells Jihoon, rocking him in his arms and pressing his cheek to his hair.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you. Please don’t leave me.” Jihoon whispers. His arms are still trembling, and he's clinging to Seungcheol like his life depends on it, and all Seungcheol wants to do is make things right.

Soon, Jihoon falls asleep and Seungcheol follows, drifting off to the gentle rumble of light purring.

…………………

When Seungcheol wakes up the following morning, the bed is empty. He follows the smell of frying bacon and fresh toast to the kitchen, where he finds Jihoon deliciously rumpled, sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter and conversing quietly with Horatio Hornblower. Seungcheol had no idea that Perpetual kitten hybrids could even converse with domestic cats! The scene unfolding before him leaves no doubt.

 “I know what you’re doing.” Jihoon whispers.

_“Meow?”_

“It’s not going to work.” He snaps, folding his arms defensively.

_“Meow!”_

 Jihoon waves his mild indignation away, scoffs. “The boxes—all of them— ** _are mine_** _.”_ he states.

_“Meow.”_

“That’s right you heard me. And the curtains of invisibility, I hide behind them when I’m scared, **stay away** from the curtains.”

_“Meow.”_

“Also, the hoover—is **my** friend. And the wardrobe, I know it’s nice and warm, but it’s **mine** too. If I find you napping in there, we’re going to have a problem.”

_“Meow.”_

“Most importantly. Seungcheol—is **my** owner. He loves **me** the most. He’s only being generous and letting you stay here temporarily. If it was up to me—you’d be out on your furry ass _so fast.”_

Seungcheol is now more than 100% positive there is territorial warfare being conducted in his house. Jihoon is fiercely territorial—even around domestic cats its seem. It’s becoming apparent that the only thing he hates sharing more than chicken and boxes, is Seungcheol himself. Seungcheol wasn’t aware of this habit. He mentally files the gem away for later, under ‘Things Jihoon Does That I Can Tease Him About’.

 _“Meow.”_ Seungcheol swears the cat just raised an eyebrow. Even though cats don’t  _have_  eyebrows.

“I _know,_ he _is_ really nice. But he’s **mine** , got it? You have your own owner out there so stay away from mine. Your owner is probably crap though, not super nice like Cheollie. Which is sad— _sad for you.”_ Jihoon taunts.

“Jihoon?” Seungcheol interjects, startling both Jihoon and the cat. “Are you bullying the cat?” He asks, and he's half aware how ridiculous that sounds.

Jihoon immediately scrambles to deny.  “I’m just teaching my feline friend the rules of the house, to help him settle in.” he says, full of mock affront.

Swiping the orange juice carton from the fridge and grabbing a glass, Seungcheol narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Helping him settle in eh?”

“Yes. For his short, albeit _highly inconvenient_ visit.” Jihoon reminds him flatly.

Seungcheol frowns as he pours himself a glass of juice, “I always thought you would like a cat, that you would enjoy having one around the house.” He ponders out loud.

Jihoon turns to glare at him, although with no real heat. “Why on earth would you think that?”

“Uh,” Seungcheol says, the picture of intelligence. “I dunno. I just thought, it’s a cat—you’re a cat _hybrid_. I thought you would talk about similar interests and enjoy naps together.” Jihoon huffs like he disapproves of the insinuation. “I was actually going to buy you a cat.” Seungcheol adds.

Jihoon makes a retching noise, while Seungcheol tries not snort orange juice out his nose.

_“Meow.”_

“Oh really? I don’t think so, besides, how would you know?” Jihoon pouts, hands on his hips.

Off to the side, leaning back against the pantry counter, Seungcheol sighs, shaking his head as he turns away to leave them to their _‘cat chat’._

 _“Meow.”_ The meow is repeated, more emphatic, less questioning.

Incredulous, Jihoon raises his eyebrows. “How dare you! You just got here! How dare you presume!” his tail and spine arch in a way that's clearly angry, “Oh my god! Seungcheol—did you hear what it just said!?” Jihoon snaps, tail coming to slash through the air with emphasis.

Seungcheol hides his amused expression behind a long swallow of juice, and sets his glass down empty. “Yeah—I did.”

“And are you just going to stand there and let it speak to me like that?” Jihoon asks, and he looks genuinely confused- almost hurt by the possibility of Seungcheol’s indifference.

Seungcheol knows damn well that Jihoon’s _irritable 'take offence at everything and act like a five year old,'_ mood is almost certainly a protest at Horatio’s presence. “If the two of you can’t get along—“ Seungcheol pauses, trying to come up with a suitable threat and comes up short, eventually he settles for a small pout. “I’m going to be very sad.”

Jihoon makes a noise of frustration, then turns to storm out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind him with force. 

…………………………

Horatio has spent all day lounging and lazing, and Seungcheol is oddly reluctant to leave him alone with Jihoon for very long. In case the hybrid has the urge to re-inact _‘kick the animal into the hedge’_ game he’s so fond of.

Jihoon has spent most of the morning bent over his laptop in the guest room (not sulking—apparently), but he reappears in the living room doorway, looking accomplished.

“Great news—the fleebag belongs to Lee Chan. He’s Mrs Chan’s nephew. They live two blocks down the road from here.”

“How did you find that out?” Seungcheol asks.

There's a rather incriminating sort of quiet from the hybrid before he speaks. “I set up a Facebook page.” Jihoon says, looking entirely too innocent. 

Seungcheol quirks an eyebrow. Jihoon doesn’t feel the need to elaborate which is devious enough in itself. So, when he goes into the kitchen to grab a snack, Seungcheol whips out his phone and logs into his account.

**98 Friends Requests** I _don’t know any of these people._

It doesn’t take him long to find the page. And he has to restrain himself from laughing too loudly when he reads Jihoon’s post.

The page also links to a few other sites Jihoon has ‘kindly’ created in search of Horatio Hornblower’s owners.

There’s a Tumblr blog entry. A Reddit post.

He’s tweeted about Horatio on twitter.

Seungcheol can't help the surprised cough of laughter when he notices Jihoon even created the cat a LinkedIn profile, with a CV and everything, in case prospective cat owners are seeking to employ a cat, for cat related activities.

“When you put your mind to something—you don’t slack off huh?” Seungcheol grins when Jihoon flops next to him on the couch.

Jihoon raises an eyebrow at him in a way that manages to be agreement and feigned innocence all at the same time. Seungcheol didn’t even known that expression was possible. “I’m just being resourceful. I sure would hate for the cat to get too comfortable and refuse to leave. Cats do that you know—they’re fiercely territorial.”

Seungcheol’s grin widens. “I **do** know that—I’m reminded of that very fact every day.”

Jihoon throws him a soft, sheepish look and says, “Anyway—Lee Chan contacted my Facebook page. It seems they hired an unreliable cat sitter who’s gone AWOL while they were on holiday. So, that’s how the cat got lost. They’ll be back from their holiday tomorrow morning.”

“So, I’ll drop the cat off tomorrow.” Seungcheol relents.

“Tomorrow morning!” Jihoon insists, looking like a child who's been promised presents. He slides down in the seat until his chin touches his chest. “First thing in the morning. I’m sure the Chan’s are very anxious to see Horatio again.”

…………………………

In most cases, Seungcheol finds watching someone else nap about as interesting as watching paint dry. Adding Jihoon into the equation—sprawled out on the living room floor in a spot of dusky red sunlight, ears twitching every now and then, the graceful movement of his tail as it coils against the carpet—kills logic in all its forms.

Logic, Seungcheol is positive, has nothing to do with how absorbing it is just to covertly stare at Jihoon wetting his lips with his precise pink tongue as he uncurls himself and stretches languidly. He doesn’t always understand how Jihoon can make the most mundane tasks seem fascinating. He isn’t sure he’ll ever be used to it.

It’s set to be a quiet, uneventful evening—that is until Horatio Hornblower traipses over and jumps on Seungcheol’s lap.

Thinking nothing of it (and more than used to have felines gracing his lap), he begins petting the cat. Horatio closes his eyes and lets out a little purr, butting his small head against Seungcheol’s broad palm.

Seungcheol is mid-pet when he notices that Jihoon is awake now— _wide awake,_ staring at him with large, round, unblinking eyes. Except for the telltale twitch of his tail, and the occasional movement of a stiffened ear, Jihoon could be mistaken for a living statue. There’s no other way of putting it.

Under the scrutiny of Jihoon’s gaze, Seungcheol finds himself backing up, scooting back in his seat slightly.

“Everything okay Jihoonie?” Seungcheol asks when he sees the unhappy pout on Jihoon's lips. 

“Yes.” Jihoon replies flatly, still watching Seungcheol with that unnervingly penetrating gaze.

_Yeah—something is most definitely wrong._

A sharp breath catches in Seungcheol's chest. He's trying not to jump to conclusions here but his gut is insisting (adamantly) that Jihoon is jealous. “Okay—good.”  Seungcheol can’t help but grin in incredulity at the situation. He continues to pet Horatio, but he can sense Jihoon’s gaze on him still.

Soon enough, Horatio Hornblower jumps off to wander off and do whatever it is cats do when they’re bored. Not even a second later, Jihoon is up on his feet, practically flinging himself into Seungcheol’s lap the moment it becomes vacant.

His hands come up to rest bracingly on Seungcheol's shoulders, and he presses himself up against Seungcheol’s front. “Jihoon—what the-“

Lips press hard against his own, cutting his sentence off. Seungcheol's muffled noise of surprise doesn't sound as much like an objection as it probably should.  Which hey, is totally not what he should be encouraging. But Seungcheol isn’t complaining, not when a probing tongue coaxes his lips apart, licking and tasting Seungcheol like he is the best dessert at the buffet and there’s only one more serving left. The kiss turns rapidly bruising, wet and biting and toeing the edge of desperation.

“Pet me! Pet me please!” Jihoon says, in between demanding kisses that turn Seungcheol’s brain to mush. He is both supplicating and commanding at once as he writhes and wriggles in Seungcheol’s lap; shimmying against his chest so he can knead and purr and nuzzle.

“Ooh-kay—“

“Harder! Pet me harder! And faster! Pet me with both hands!” Jihoon whimpers, voice muffled as he mashes his face into Seungcheol’s neck, luxuriating in Seungcheol’s attention.

“What’s gotten into you Kitten?” Seungcheol laughs. He gently scratches the base of Jihoon’s soft ears and the hybrid purrs in response, a gentle rumbling that sends an answering warmth through Seungcheol’s chest.

“I missed you!” Jihoon whines, butting at his chest for more attention.

“We’ve been together all day Jihoon.” Seungcheol manages through a dry throat. He licks his lips and Jihoon watches the movement with a strange sort of fascination. 

“No, we haven’t! You’ve been busy—with your _guest.”_ Jihoon says bitterly.

He’s midway through petting Jihoon (with both hands as requested) when Horatio saunters back into the room. Jihoon and Horatio exchange heated hisses for a moment, and when the cat steps forward Jihoon bristles, but this time with a hint of bared canines. Not enough to scare Horatio away, not intending any damage, but enough to make the point.  _Go away. This is mine._

“Ha!” Jihoon sounds accomplished when the cat yowls in protest and crosses the room to jump up onto the window ledge. Seungcheol has an urge to tell him to stop being a baby, but the impulse stills on his tongue when the hybrid turns to him and says:

“I want to suck you cock,” He says it casual, like he is asking Seungcheol to pass the salt.

Of course, Seungcheol is immediately imagining it. Jihoon, red-faced and swollen-lipped and trying his best to  _swallow_  around him, tears streaming from closed eyes and clinging to his lashes. His cock twitches in its confines and Jihoon's smile widens, voice sinking to a suggestive level. “I’ve heard humans like it when they get their dicks sucked. I can make you feel good Cheol.”

Seungcheol looks down, breathing hard. “Fuck, Jihoon—I would love that, but we,” he hesitates, looking at the hybrids tilted head and quizzical ears. He’s good with controlling his body, his reactions, but he’s not a fucking machine, and…..

Quick fingers curl around Seungcheol’s nape, legs spread over his hips and Jihoon’s body bears down on his crotch.

Blood rushes between Seungcheol ears and legs simultaneously, making him feel like he's on the verge of flying apart. Canting his hips, Jihoon spreads his legs as wide as they’ll go and thrusts blindly in search of friction, frustrated little mewls escaping from his lips; all twisted up and desperate and practically grinding the desire into his skin. He grinds down firmly enough for Seungcheol to feel the need rolling off him, the heat surging under his skin, between his legs, matching and mingling with his own.

“Jihoon, listen, this is hardly…” Jihoon forestalls his attempt to reason by pushing his hands inside Seungcheol’s shirt and working it up his chest and over his head. "This is insane," Seungcheol says when he's free. It's as if Jihoon doesn't realize or care about the cat watching them from across the room.

Jihoon just cocks an eyebrow at him, challenging. “Come on.” His voice is heavy with meaning, head a warm, heavy weight when he melts against Seungcheol and rests it on his shoulder, nose a small point of heat rubbing at the side of his neck. “You want to, right? C’mon, we can do it here— _on the couch?”_

A noise escapes his throat at that, something messy and half strangled. He doesn’t act quick enough to control the new wave of arousal at Jihoon’s suggestion, especially when the hybrid kneads coyly at his chest.  “You smell so good Cheollie! How can you expect a little hybrid like me to withstand that kinda pull.” Jihoon's eyes are dark with want as he nuzzles him, his nails digging into Seungcheol’s shoulder as he tries to exert a measure of self-control.

It’s futile because Jihoon is moving that slim-fingered hand up to cup him through his trousers, squirming and shifting in close enough to press his mouth against his ear. “Come on Cheol—take your pants off.”

“Jihoon—no! We can’t do it—in front of the cat. It’s weird.” Seungcheol hears himself whisper, and then he can’t untangle his tongue long enough to get another word out.

“Don’t be coy—I know you wanna.” Jihoon already sounds out of breath. The slow sinuous way he rolls his hips leaves Seungcheol swearing

Jihoon is imperious, unshakeable when he sets his mind on something. It is one of the things Seungcheol loves about him. Usually he would never turn an offer down, but what kind of person would he be if he sheltered the neighbourhood pets, then engaged in intercourse in front of them? There’s probably a law against it. And if there’s not—there should be!

“I wanna go down on you Cheol, I want you to fuck every hole I have. First, you’re going to start with my mouth, then--” His drops to a whisper as his teeth graze Seungcheol’s ear.

Seungcheol tries to keep his gaze steady, but how the fuck  _can_  he when Jihoon is talking about how he wants to tongue Seungcheol’s foreskin, lick the slit and get him nice and wet, take him in until Seungcheol is hitting the back of his throat and choking him. Seungcheol feels like he's choking  _now_. Seungcheol is going to die. He's going to have a fucking heart attack here on his couch and Jihoon's going to have to call the paramedics and explain it to everyone. 

“Jihoon. The cat is watching us!” Seungcheol whispers desperately but Jihoon continues to be as sensually pervading as ever; all smiling and wriggling and breathless; squeezing Seungcheol, dragging the tip of his thumbnail against the slit of Seungcheol’s cock, and even through the fabric it's enough to have Seungcheol arching in his seat.

“This is wrong—Horatio will be scarred for life.” Seungcheol hisses and Jihoon’s face just breaks into one of those mischievous smiles, eyes glittering, and he finally manages to navigate a hand through the front of Seungcheol’s boxers

"God, you're so hard already." Jihoon murmurs. Almost innocently, he tilts his head, as if he doesn't have a hot hand very firmly gripping Seungcheol’s cock and a very wet tongue sneaking out to flick against his jawline.

Seungcheol grabs Jihoon's wrist before he realizes what he's doing and yanks it out of his boxers a little harder than he intends. “Jihoon— **No.”**

“Seungcheol,” Jihoon whispers. He's practically silent, all breath to the words, like his voice has been rasped down to nothing. “Are you—turning me away?”

The "yes" is out of Seungcheol's mouth before he can think about it. 

Jihoon’s glowing expression vanishes from his face. The air in the room seems to thicken and time grinds to a halt as they stare at each other. Jihoon stares at him blankly, uncomprehending – and then his face hardens. He gives a jerky nod, “Fine.” he whispers, removing Seungcheol’s hand from where it rests on his hip and climbing off his lap.

Seungcheol has the odd sensation of someone who’s just been rejected, though of course that isn’t the case at all. “I’ll leave you and your precious pet cat in peace.” Jihoon says, lips pressing into a thin line, a little garnish of mockery.

Jihoon leaves the room, glancing back once. Seungcheol wasn’t expecting a warm response to his refusal, but the hybrids reaction is decidedly—cold. Final.

_Great—now he’s pissed._

A small, questioning “mrow?” from Horatio on the window ledge breaks the tension. Seungcheol lets out the breath he has been holding, a silent sigh of exasperation, although he still can’t shake the lingering arousal.

“I’m blaming you for this.” Seungcheol addresses the cat and he’s sure that, if it could, the cat would be rolling his eyes at him.

……………………..

Jihoon is pissed.

He sleeps dedicatedly at his side of the bed that night, answering Seungcheol's queries with short sentences and monosyllables. Even when Seungcheol reaches out to run an apologetic hand down the length of his tail, he coils it tightly around his waist and scoots even further away. When Seungcheol reaches out to caress those silken ears, he receives a forbidding hand pressed against his, claws extended in delicate warning.

Seungcheol’s just grateful he’s sharing the bed with him and not casting him out to the guest bedroom.

Although Horatio was himself a minor nuisance in the scheme of things, Seungcheol can’t wait to be rid of him. No good deed goes unpunished—or something to that effect.

He just hopes Jihoon won’t be mad at him for long. And if he is, the Jihoonian retribution and legendary wrath will require a lot of chicken and a lot of petting before he softens again.

…………………………

The following day is sunny, skies washed clean following two days of downpour, a novelty after the monotony of grey. Seungcheol never ceases to wonder at how vivid blue the skies seem when the clouds deign to part. He makes a quick trip down the block with Horatio and returns him to his rightful owners, smiling as they fawn over their cat and thank Seungcheol profusely. Then he returns home to Jihoon.

“Horatio hornblower has been returned safely to his family. Little Dino is so happy to have him back. Are you happy now?” Seungcheol says, walking into the bedroom. He steps up behind Jihoon as he’s rifling through the wardrobe and slips an arm around his waist.

Jihoon shrinks away, making it very clear that he's still not happy with Seungcheol by the set of his ears and the tight curling of his tail around his waist. “Great.” he says, sounding perfectly serene despite the obvious stiffness in his posture.

“What are you doing?” Seungcheol asks, just to create conversation.

“I’m looking for something nice to wear.” he answers, not looking up from where his attention is ostensibly focused on routing through his clothes.

“Are we—going out?”

Jihoon looks defiantly up at Seungcheol, the set of his shoulders is determined, the line of his mouth sombre. “I am.” he says.

Seungcheol frowns, absolutely certain that he'd heard that wrong. “You are? But I’m not?” He asks. He’s on the edge of bewildered exasperation, which he is finding to be his standard mood when he is trying to have a conversation with an irate Jihoon.

“I don’t care what you do.” Jihoon informs him coldly. Seungcheol takes a half step back, unnerved at the sudden venom in Jihoon’s voice.

“Oh? And where are you going?” Seungcheol asks, and is grateful that his voice holds steady.

“I dunno. I might go to the park, find some single men, maybe sit on their laps. You know, mingle. I’m a social butterfly who can’t be stopped. You should probably get used to it.” Jihoon says. There’s something in the way Jihoon drops the line so casually, the way his eyes settle and flit. It’s dismissive, deliberately tailored to hurt, and by  _god_ , it rankles that it does.

Seungcheol folds his arms across his broad chest and taps his fingers on his bicep. He narrows his eyes and fixes Jihoon with a look that might lead to something much more interesting than a lecture if he weren’t well on his way to being exceedingly pissed off. “Oh really?” he snarks, struggling to curb his annoyance.

Jihoon shoots him a look, disgruntled. “Yeah—really!” he replies sharply, tail whipping though the air in a frenzy. “In fact, I might find myself a new owner while I’m at it. Somebody who **will** satisfy me.” His voice sounds carefully controlled this time, the rough edges sanded deliberately down until they're almost neutral. But Seungcheol can still see the fire snapping behind Jihoon's eyes.

Seungcheol’s face tightens a little at the choice of words but he manages a laugh. Jihoon might not be particularly extroverted, but he isn’t afraid to go straight for the throat. Seungcheol would have to be terribly inattentive not to see that remark coming a mile away—it doesn’t make the hurt any less for its expectation.

Jihoon’s expression goes soft for an instant before he turns away and starts rummaging in a nearby drawer. “I think I’ll wear shorts!” He announces, picking up a pair of his tightest and shortest.

Seungcheol stands awkwardly, watching Jihoon dress. He takes a steadying breath, attempting to calm his agitation. He feels a dozen thoughts and emotions flit through his mind but tries not to feel bewildered and betrayed by this acting out.

“How do I look? Do I look nice? I want to be nice for my new owner.” Jihoon says, meeting Seungcheol's eyes stubbornly and steadily, daring him to make a confrontation out of it.

Jihoon’s trying hard to seem casual, that much is obvious, but Seungcheol is sure he’s trying even harder to ignore the anxiety swelling in his stomach. Under all his bravado, Jihoon is very much still just a needy young hybrid who wants Seungcheol’s undivided attention.

And because Seungcheol knows Jihoon well, too well, perfectly well, he proceeds to ignore his tactics, sets himself to re-establishing the equilibrium Jihoon’s always, always been an expert at unbalancing

“You look very nice. You always look nice Jihoon, you won’t have any trouble picking up a new owner. Have fun.” is what he goes with, which is so far from what he should say that he could kick himself. Instead, he forces a brilliant smile and holds Jihoon's gaze for a few seconds just to watch his words register with the hybrid.

Jihoon’s face cycles through irritation, confusion, and hurt, before settling back on irritation. “I will!” He declares, skewering Seungcheol with the most unimpressed look he can muster before stomping to the front door with melodramatic flair.

“Jihoon wait!” Seungcheol calls out, unable to stop himself. There’s the barest pause in Jihoon’s step, the tips of his ears flicking as he tilts his head to glance back at Seungcheol. “You should probably take a jacket with you. It’s pretty cold out.”

Jihoon's lips part, retort clear on his tongue, probably prepared to accept Seungcheol’s apology. He appears genuinely shocked that Seungcheol hasn’t actually tried to stop him from leaving and he visibly flinches.

“Oh—okay.” He blinks, suddenly seeming so shy and small. He pads quietly back down the corridor, casts Seungcheol a look as he brushes past: confused and more than a little hurt. Seungcheol forces himself not to flinch, no matter how overwhelming Jihoon's expression is.

He pulls a jacket off the coat hanger, watching Seungcheol all the while. Seungcheol catches himself reaching forward to touch the hybrid and then stops, because he's not rising to the bait.

After an agonizing moment, Jihoon looks away. His gaze drops to the floor, a full retreat, and Seungcheol stares in amazement. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to leave at all—it’s theatrical at best but Seungcheol’s not caving to his petulance this time.

“I’m going to go now.” He mumbles. His voice is soft, but it carries quiet desperation. 

“Bye then.” Seungcheol says. It's a braver response than his other leading alternatives, most of which involve sinking to the floor on his knees and begging Jihoon for forgiveness.

Jihoon stops when he reaches the front door, turning back briefly with wide sorrowful eyes and a trembling lower lip, barely containing the mewl of distress that escapes him as he slips out of the door.

It takes every ounce of Seungcheol's willpower not to follow.

……………………

Seungcheol shuts his eyes briefly, nails digging crescents into his palms. He wants to go after Jihoon, wants to grab him and drag him back. Wants to sink his teeth into him so hard that everyone will know who he belongs too. He shoves it down, steels himself for the wait.

Twenty agonizing minutes pass and Seungcheol can’t stop himself from grabbing his keys and heading to the door. There’s a growing ball of  _something_  at the back of his throat, jostling and churning behind his Adam’s apple, grown out of the anger twined around his heart and lungs. He stops to wrestle his breathing under control on the landing, palm resting on the door knob. 

He’s going to drive to the park, and if Jihoon is in fact sitting on ‘somebody’ else’s lap—he might kill ‘somebody’.

He flings the door open, charges outside and freezes.

Jihoon is sitting there, legs dangling off the side of the porch steps. He looks utterly despondent; tail limp, shoulders slumped, tiny cat ears drooping.

Seungcheol can’t help the ragged laugh that tears out of his throat in a mixture of fear and relief.

“Oh, hello Jihoon.” Seungcheol says, in a voice that doesn’t quite achieve casualness. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon, I thought you were going to the park to find a new owner and sit on lots of laps?” He says, walking down the steps.  

Jihoon’s ears perk up a tiny fraction, but he doesn’t respond to Seungcheol’s question. He simply sits there, stubborn and silent and utterly motionless. Watching, like he's waiting for Seungcheol to make the first move. Seungcheol hates the silence—he hates the unwelcome sense of disconnect surrounding them, distance where there should be fluid familiarity.

“Not talking huh? Okay—well the front door’s still open if you’re going back inside.” He explains, twirling his car keys as he walks away from the hybrid.

“Where are you going?” Jihoon mumbles, eyes downcast.

Seungcheol stops and turns to face him, shrugging his shoulders. “Just out.”

Jihoon studies the toes of his shoes, twisting his hands together in his lap, unable to look Seungcheol in the eye. “Are you going to the pet shop to buy a cat. Are you going to replace me?” Jihoon says, and his voice is possibly the quietest Seungcheol has ever heard him speak.

The anger Seungcheol felt abates, and he stares at Jihoon with his mouth just hanging open. “No Jihoon. I’m not replacing you. You’re not my fucking pet! How many times am I going to have to say it before you get it in your head?”

He watches helplessly as Jihoon’s head drops, ears lying flat on his head in complete defeat. The broken mewl he releases is edged with sorrow now. He sounds resigned to his fate, like a bird that knows its wings have been clipped, and Seungcheol isn't any happier with Jihoon's capitulation than he was with his defiance.

“Oh fuck,” Seungcheol groans, “I’m sorry—come here kitten.” He says warmly, sweeping Jihoon up in a familiar hug, smiling as the hybrid melts into a mewling, nuzzling bundle in his arms.

Jihoon returns the embrace with the same familiar warmth. “I was sad—you let me leave.” He says, his voice is a soft sigh against Seungcheol’s jaw. “I don’t even know how to get to the park, I was just—“ He trails off, a light blush forming on his cheeks.

“Were you trying to make me Jealous?”

“Hmm.” Jihoon stares back with heavy-lidded, bright eyes and then ducks his face into Seungcheol's neck. His tail traces nonsense patterns over the bare skin of Seungcheol’s back, loops and circles and curves that send shivers up his spine. “You were making me jealous yesterday—playing with that cat—petting it. Letting it sit on your lap.”

“You have nothing to be jealous of Jihoon— ** _ever.”_** Seungcheol says firmly, because he is quite certain about that and Jihoon needs to understand that as soon as possible. “It was just a cat Jihoon. It’s not the same as you going around and sitting on other mens laps. You know it’s not the same.”

There’s no point in trying to sound stern while he’s nosing into Jihoon’s hair and wrapping his arms around him, so he doesn’t bother. Seungcheol nuzzles close, feathers kisses along Jihoon’s temple and forehead, tracing the pliant line of his cat ear with his lips. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I would never hurt you or ruin what we have by—doing anything with anyone else.”

Jihoon’s grin is pleased, quietly bashful. In that moment, there’s a near-boyish sweetness about him; a beauty that, when cast in the right light, lends itself to perfection. “I know. I just—feel insecure sometimes. Like I’m not good enough for you.”

“That’s insane Jihoon. Is this all because of your shitty ex owners?” The words fall unwittingly from Seungcheol’s mouth, unbidden.

“What?” Jihoon stiffens at the query. His eyes narrow for an instant. If Seungcheol were wrong, Jihoon would have denied the suggestion instantly. Which means his silence is as clear a confession as Seungcheol could have hoped for.

There are too many secrets between them, too many half-truths and mysteries that they need to drag kicking and screaming into the open. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes for a long moment, and exhales as he lets them fall back to his sides. “Let’s go back inside.”

…………………….

Seungcheol grabs Jihoon’s file from his study and enters the living room, dropping heavily into the couch, expecting Jihoon to do much the same. Jihoon lingers by the door for a minute, then he walks over and sits down next to Seungcheol.

Seungcheol bites absently at his lower lip, suddenly unsure how to proceed. Beyond the obvious ' _We need to talk_ ,' he's not sure what to say. He has the strangest sense that he should be apologizing for something, but for the life of him he doesn't know  _what_.

“What are you...” Jihoon starts, holding his voice perfectly, purposely level. “Is that my file?”

“Yeah, uhm—Jeonghan left it over the other day.”

Jihoon’s nose twitches, just a little. “How much of it have you read?” He says carefully. He’s looking at the folder like he was looking at the vacuum and the cucumber, and Seungcheol isn’t sure whether it’s unsettling or not.

“Just a few pages, the front profile page, a behavioural report,” The sentence hangs, until Seungcheol looks across at him. Jihoon is quiet. His mouth forms a tight line, the way it always does when he's pondering something, and the crease between his eyebrows is pronounced. Seungcheol wants to reach out and smooth it. 

“It felt a little odd going through it without your permission.” Seungcheol says. When Jihoon cuts his eyes away instead of responding, he adds, “I was hoping you can just give me the jist of it.”

Seungcheol watches in fascination as Jihoon's gaze goes instantly shuttered. “You don’t need permission.” Jihoon replies. He meets Seungcheol's eyes again, but his face holds a quiet, untraceable emotion that's impossible to place. “You should read what you want, it’s fine.”

And really, it would be, except that Seungcheol can’t tell what that look Jihoon is giving him actually means. “You can look at it first if you want,” he adds. “If there’s anything in here you don’t want me to see, you should let me know.”

Jihoon stiffens almost imperceptibly. “No,” he says, turning and crossing his legs nonchalantly. “Not necessary. I’m more than familiar with what it says.”

“Do you want it back. I could—not read it if you want?” Seungcheol asks, sensing that Jihoon is uncomfortable.

Jihoon clamps his jaw shut, air punching out through his nostrils. “No, it’s fine. I mean, you have a right to read it. Whatever.” He sets his jaw and says nothing.

“There was another name in your file—Woozi—what made you decide to change it?” Seungcheol asks at last, since Jihoon seems determined to ignore him.

Seungcheol watches Jihoon’s face fall five shades paler. “It wasn’t my real name, it just the name my last owner assigned me. If you don’t like my name you can change it whenever you want.” Jihoon says, looking at the ground and not at Seungcheol.

“No—no, you’re Jihoon, that’s how I know you. I like that name. I was just curious as to what makes you decide on a name and how easy it is to adapt to a new one suddenly.” Seungcheol says. He laughs a little, but it comes out taut, strained.

Jihoon just steadfastly stares at the same spot he’s been staring at for the past five minutes. Seungcheol is ready to shrug this off and leave him to his own devices when Jihoon suddenly thuds his tail against the couch and says, “I don’t decide on anything.”

Seungcheol sighs letting his head fall forward into his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says, the words dropping hard at the end of a sigh. “We can stop talking about this if you like. I guess I just wanted to know more about you and—you don’t really tell me anything.”

“Cause it’s not worth sharing!” Jihoon says, his words pour out in a rush, like he was holding them just behind his teeth.

Seungcheol forces himself to swallow around the knot of dread in his throat, then forces himself to sound calm even though he’s on the verge of blurting out  _please just tell me!_  Instead, he starts flicking through the folder, watching Jihoon with sidelong glances. His golden-brown ears are laid low, twitchy, just like the tip of his tail is. The rapid movements are at odds with how perfectly stoic Jihoon is.

“What part are you reading now?” Jihoon asks, his brow cut deep with a frown. His tail is swishing rapidly, hitting him in the shoulder every few flicks.

“The police report again. I didn’t get a very good look at it before.” Seungcheol explains. He’s caught for a second, dazed in the headlights, by the way Jihoon is looking at him. 

Jihoon is staring, ears pricked up high and tail flicking, pupils impossibly wide. “I was hungry, I had no food. I didn’t mean to steal anything. I didn’t even get to open the can before the police came.” He says in a rush, ears twitching in visible anxiety. It's a better response than Seungcheol expected. He more than half feared that Jihoon would shut him down like he always has on the subject of his history, fighting grief with denial.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have stolen it in the first place.” Jihoon says, not quite meeting his eyes. He looks like he half expects an angry response, or at least a disappointed one.

When Jihoon still doesn't look at him, Seungcheol reaches out—sets a firm hand on Jihoon's arm and lets his fingers close into a commanding grip. “I don’t care about the conviction Jihoon. I just want to know about everything else. Why you were in that situation in the first place.”

“You don’t care that I’m a bad kitten and stole that can?” Jihoon says with altogether too much disbelief.

“I told you, you could tell me anything and it wouldn’t change how I felt about you.” Seungcheol says. The smile he is rewarded is enough to buoy him up. “I love you Jihoon. You can trust me, you know.” Seungcheol tells him. He means it, down to his marrow. 

The corner of Jihoon’s mouth is twitches upwards and there's gratitude in his eyes “I know.” Seungcheol hears a hint of resignation in those two simple words.

“And I love you too. I’m just not—” Jihoon starts, and stops again. “I’ve never explained this part of my life to anyone. I don’t quite know where to begin.” His voice is tentative. Seungcheol hates how fragile this feels, like Jihoon wants to hand him something but is afraid it will break the moment it leaves his fingers.

The hybird tucks his knees against his chest and goes very still, but when he speaks again he’s looking Seungcheol right in the eye. “My first owner, was a man. He bought me for his wife because she couldn’t have children. I was supposed to be like—the child she never had and it worked for a while.” Jihoon smiles, soft and a little bit distant. He pauses and seems to collect his thoughts.

“But I guess their marriage wasn’t strong enough anyway and trying to have a child was a last ditch attempt at keeping things together. They filed for divorce and because I was bought under his name, I was his property. They don’t have court proceedings for hybrid custody, you just live with the person who has your ownership papers.”

Seungcheol lets that sink in, then takes another few seconds to be sure he heard right. Silence settles between them, until Seungcheol gathers up the nerve to ask. “And—he mistreated you?”

“No—he, not at first.” Jihoon fixes his jaw. He glares at some distant point across the room, over Seungcheol’s shoulder.  “He didn’t even want me in the first place. And he only kept me out of spite, to get back at her. So, he would take me out to places he knew she would be, so he could drag me under her nose. I don’t have parents but it felt like I did for a while and it hurt to be used like that.” Jihoon says, thumbing over his knuckles, his voice gone rough.

“Eventually she moved on and he just got more bitter. That’s when he—started being cruel. He’d lock me outside and chain me for little things like, spilling juice or closing the door too quickly. It rained a lot where we lived and I used to get scared.” He says it with his face in his hands, but each syllable pierces Seungcheol with cool needlelike precision and Seungcheol’s fingertips press whitely into the arms of his chair.

“Then one day he locked me in my room and said he was going out. I was there for two days when I realised he wasn’t coming back. I climbed out of my window and made back into the house, but he’d packed up everything and left me.” His voice is so hoarse and low Seungcheol can hardly hear him.

“He left me.” Jihoon says again, quiet, like something might break if he’s too loud. Seungcheol sees it then—the constellation of hurt in Jihoon, the way his face can't quite hide it. 

"Jihoon, I'm—" Seungcheol swallows, knowing there is almost nothing he can say. Every excuse feels threadbare. Seungcheol doesn’t say anything. He just sits there, sifting through the dozen emotions that fall over him at once.

“I didn’t know what to do—I’d never been by myself before. I knew I couldn’t go outside and ask for help from just anyone, because I was a rare breed they always warned me about the threat of poachers. I thought maybe he would come back for me. Even though he was cruel—he was all I had.”

“I got so hungry. There was nothing to eat and I went out one day, to the shop around the corner and stole a can of tuna. I didn’t have any money. The shop owner recognised me from when I used to accompany my owner shopping and he called the police. They came to the house and took me away when they realised I was a stray. I went through rehabilitation before they sold me again. My next owner had a family. They seemed nice when I first arrived, but they quickly proved me wrong. They had no idea how to care for a hybrid, they just saw me as a domestic pet—expected me to use a litter tray and eat out of a bowl on the floor. Every time I argued with them that I wasn’t an animal, they would tighten my collar to punish me. They even stood on my tail. I was so miserable I got really sick and because they didn’t want to pay for my care, they took me to a shopping mall and tied me to a post and left me.”

Seungcheol doesn't bother asking ' _Why didn't you tell me any of this_?' He thinks he understands now.

“The rep from Pledis pets said I must have been a really bad kitten for two owners to leave me. Said it was all my fault that they didn’t love me.” Jihoon says, standing up. He sighs a little, his eyes soft and brimming with heartache. “So, now you know why I’m preowned.” He murmurs. Tears are burning, wet and fierce in Jihoon’s eyes. He refuses to let them fall. He turns toward the window, folding his arms and facing away from Seungcheol.

One tight minute passes, and then, very deliberately, Seungcheol takes a step forward. He is slow in his approach, every movement telegraphed. Jihoon is rigid and still, tension ringing over him.

Without a word, Seungcheol leans his head low, settling it against the slope of Jihoon’s shoulder. He takes slow, greedy breaths of skin and fur. He pulls Jihoon into his lungs, flavoring all of his oxygen with the heavy taste of him. Jihoon makes a sound like a whimper, something soft and lost. Seungcheol settles his hand at the taper of Jihoon’s neck. He smooths his thumb, up and down. Jihoon doesn’t stop it.

When Seungcheol slides his arms around him, one and then the other, he feels Jihoon start to shake. “I’m sorry,” Seungcheol says, a gust of breath into his hair. “Jihoon, I’m so sorry.”

Seungcheol turns him around in his arms, pulling him in tight, so tight that he thinks Jihoon’s ribs might crush under the press. Jihoon claws at Seungcheol—at his shoulders, his back—half fighting from being coddled and half begging for him to grip in closer.

Seungcheol remembers crying like this when he was a kid. He can remember how it could feel, like your body is being scraped raw from the inside. Jihoon lets out huge, heaving sobs, and Seungcheol holds him, arms wound tight like a knot, keeping all his seams together. Holds him until Jihoon is done shaking and hiccupping and crying into his shoulder.

“Listen,” Seungcheol starts, and finds himself nearly at a loss for words. His peace offering is a meager one, he knows, but he hopes that it will assuage what pain and hurt it can, and that Jihoon will feel better.

“It’s awful what happened to you Jihoon and I’m sorry that people can be so cruel. But that’s not going to happen again. I’m not going to leave you.” Seungcheol swallows hard, because this is the part he's not as sure about. This is the part that could send Jihoon hiding himself away again when what he needs is to be grounded.

But he's here. He's not backing out now. ' _Sink or swim_ ,' he thinks. “You can hold on to those memories if you want and let them hurt you over and over again, let them control your fears. Or you can let them go and be happy with me, because I love you and I’m going to look after you forever.”

Jihoon steps back a little, the expression on his face slowly morphs from grief into cautious disbelief, and from there into something gloriously like hope.

Seungcheol doesn't repeat his words. He just rests a hand on the smooth skin a bare inch from Jihoon’s lips, glances down at the fractional space separating their faces, and then back up into Jihoon’s wide, blinking eyes.

“Let it go Kitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longgggggg.


	9. Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon is a hybrid Christmas Grinch basically.

Seungcheol has long been of the opinion that it would be possible to divide everything in the world into two categories: ‘things which Jihoon likes’ and ‘things which Jihoon hates’. Jihoon is a person of extremes. He hates or loves or doesn’t give a shit; rarely is he anything in between.

Chocolate chip pancakes, chicken, oversized jumpers, bubbles. All of these things fit quite clearly into the first category. Things such as cucumbers, upright standing hoovers and oatmeal, on the other hand, are most definitely second category material. It is an easy call to make, once you know how.

Seungcheol _thought_ he knew how. Jihoon is nothing if not consistent and Seungcheol assumed he knew Jihoon’s taste well enough to be able to divide the world according to it.

Christmas, turns out to be an exception.

** Christmas Cards **

Seungcheol’s parked outside Jihoon’s hybrid finishing school, waiting to pick him up. The grounds are lively, all noise and energy and afternoon classes. Jihoon’s been attending for little over three months to study music and social integration.

It’s worked wonders for his confidence, and his attitude and behaviour around strangers was improving. _Mostly._

He’s still kind of paranoid when it comes to certain things, but he’s a suspicious hybrid by nature, slow to accept changes to his perceived worldview.

“Drive.” Jihoon commands as he jumps into the car, looking rushed and rumpled and annoyed.

Seungcheol blinks, looking stupid with his mouth a little open because he was getting ready to say, _‘How was your day?’_ “Uhh—did you rob the place? Kill somebody? Am I the getaway driver right now?” He deadpans.

For a few seconds, Jihoon’s brow furrows with genuine confusion, “Huh? Oh—no! _Sorry.”_ he says sheepishly. “It’s just the end of term and I can’t wait to get outta here. Also—some of the other hybrids are really fucking annoying and – **oh god!** _Here comes one now!”_

Seungcheol is startled by a sudden knock on the window. “Hello Jihoon!” A stranger waves from the window. He looks like a hamster hybrid of some type: absolutely manic.

“You forgot your Christmas card on your desk! I have it here for you! I wrote a special message inside just for you! _Jihoon!_ _Hello_!” He sing-songs, pressing his nose against the driver side window.

Seungcheol tries to hide a smile as the furrow between Jihoon’s brow deepens further. It also seems as if this hamster hybrid is incapable of speaking in sentences that don’t end in exclamation points. 

Seungcheol is reaching down to lower the window when Jihoon grabs his knee. “Don’t! Just drive!”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows lift up toward his hairline. “I’m not driving away Jihoon! He’s talking to you! Besides, I think he’s holding on to the side mirror.”

“Seungcheol— _please.”_ Jihoon pleads quietly enough that the other hybrid won't hear. “He’s so annoying. He never shuts up! He asks so many questions in class and follows me everywhere! He tries to sit next to me all the time and wants us to be _best friends!”_ He moans, with distressing sincerity. Like friendliness is a perfectly logical reason to drive off with a hybrid hanging to the side of the car.

Seungcheol pulls a face at him, because _seriously? Seriously?_ “ _That—sounds—awful._ Truly awful. Somebody wants to be your friend and get to know you, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” Seungcheol’s voice drips with sarcasm as he presses in the button to roll down the window.

“What are you doing!” Jihoon hisses.

Seungcheol puts on his best-yet-sincere smile and holds out his hand. “Hi. I’m Seungcheol.” He can feel Jihoon behind him radiating disapproval and keeps his head tilted forward to try and block the other hybrid seeing Jihoon glowering behind him.

“Hello Seungcheol!” The hybrid shakes his hand. “Are you Jihoon’s owner?”

“Oh—no. I’m his boyfriend.”

_Boyfriend._

It sounds so naïve and untried, too flimsy of a term to capture the complexity of all the experiences they’ve shared, the consuming passion and fierce possession that characterizes their relationship.  _Boyfriend_  doesn’t come close to defining what they are to each other anymore. But he supposes it’s close enough—for now.

“Oh cool! I’m Soonyoung! Jihoon’s best friend!” The hybrid answers, quick and automatic.

“I _know_ , Jihoon was just telling me all about you.” Seungcheol drawls, turning to look at Jihoon briefly as he says it. The hybrids glares at him with the shining eyes that Seungcheol recognizes. He calls that look the _‘you’re so fucking dead’_  look.

Soonyoung, because unlike Jihoon sarcasm isn't his native language, perks right up. “He was!?” The hamster beams, which is weird, because Seungcheol is sure he was already beaming to the highest extent, but it’s clear he’s beaming even more all the same.

“I have a Christmas Card for Jihoon! I gave it to him earlier but he left it on his desk! He’s so silly! I guess we were having so much fun! I have it here for him!” Fishing an envelope out of his bag, he presents it to Seungcheol with a flourish.

Seungcheol hands it to Jihoon, who gingerly accepts the envelope like he’s expecting it to blow up in his face. 

“Do you like it!” Soonyoung asks hopefully, eyes wide, hands clasped together. “That’s me and my owner! Don’t we look nice together!”

Seungcheol tilts his head to examine the photograph at the front of the card as Jihoon inches it out of the envelope.

He needs a minute—possibly several minutes—to translate the image he’s looking at. Both Soonyoung and his owner look strikingly similar. People always say that hybrids look like their owners, but Seungcheol’s always thought that was an idiotic thing to say. This time though, it’s undeniably true.

“Yeah—it’s a,” He hesitates, caught in Soonyoung’s bright stare, so unfamiliar in its intensity, Seungcheol mentally ransacks his repertoire of behaviourisms for an appropriate thing to say. “It’s— _adorable?_ Thanks. It’s so kind of you Soonyoung. Thank you for being so nice to Jihoon.” Seungcheol says.

“It’s my pleasure! Merry Christmas Guys! I’ll see you in the new year best buddy!” Soonyoung practically screams as he bounds down the pavement.

Seungcheol waves him off, meanwhile, Jihoon looks like a cat choking on a hairball.

“See—that wasn’t so hard. He seems nice. A little hyper,” Seungcheol says, which is probably putting it mildly. “But friendly and harmless.”

He knows Jihoon's face well enough to know that he's not convinced. “You don’t have to deal with him all day. He’s actually like that—all day long Cheol.” Jihoon mutters under his breath as he frowns at the happy faces on the card.

Seungcheol puts the car in gear and pulls out onto the road. They drive in silence for a few minutes.

“It’s kinda a nice idea—Christmas Cards.” Seungcheol says tentatively, already twisting the possibilities around in his head. Normally he wouldn’t think twice about sending out Christmas cards—because what the fuck? But now that it’s in his head, he’s enchanted by the idea.

Jihoon must sense the nature of his thoughts because he redirects his indignant glare “You can’t be serious?”

Seungcheol smiles because Jihoon is kind of adorable in the level of indignation he has achieved. “You’d look so cute in a little santa hat—with a little bell on your tail.” He says wistfully.

“How about, no!” He grumbles back morosely, frowning so violently the wrinkles between his eyebrows are a decidedly-pronounced V. 

The waspish tone makes Seungcheol long to kiss the hostile line of Jihoon’s mouth.  “How about I already bought you a tiny outfit? And now I want you to wear it for the Christmas cards I’ve just decided I’m going to send this year.”

“You _are_ being serious—no Seungcheol!” Jihoon snaps, glaring at Seungcheol as if he’s personally offended him. The tips of his ears and nose are flushed with the cold, and it makes the look he gives less threatening than it usually would be. “I didn’t think you went all in for the Christmas thing anyway. You didn’t last year.” he argues.

“That’s different. I just moved in to that house a year ago, I didn’t have time to go all out for Christmas and it’s no fun by your own. This year—I have plans.”

“Oh god. What have you done?” Jihoon asks, leaning across the gearstick to point a finger right between Seungcheol’s eyes.

Seungcheol controls his facial expression with great effort, delighted beyond words at the thought of Jihoon’s reaction to what he has in store. “You’ll see.”

** Christmas Tree **

“Come and look what I bought.” Seungcheol grins enthusiastically, leading the way into the front room. Jihoon comes through the door trailing cold air - and is almost immediately distracted by the new addition to the room: a six-foot Christmas Tree.

He looks at the tree, then at Seungcheol. “It’s a Christmas tree.” Seungcheol explains after the hybrid surveys the tree with an unreadable expression.

There's surprise somewhere there, which quickly becomes a bewildered frown. “I know. But why do we have one”

“I thought it would liven up the place. Figured we could make the house festive for the holidays.” Seungcheol explains gesturing to all the Christmas decorations waiting to be strung up in their packaging.

Seungcheol’s been thinking about this for ages: a proper Christmas with Jihoon. He’s had the thought fluttering around at the back of his mind for months until he’d finally allowed himself to coax it out into an actual, possible, full-fledged idea.  

He has a standing invitation to celebrate Christmas with his fathers extended side of the family, but it's never something he's been brave enough to attempt. He has a strained relationship with that side of his family, the kind where you’re obligated to visit but can’t spend too much time around each other without things deteriorating into shouting matches and weaponized silverware.

Jihoon’s his family now, and doing all the traditional Christmas shit with him feels very family-appropriate, and hell if they're starting traditions they might as well do it right.

Jihoon looks up from his disapproving contemplation of the Christmas tree and notices the motion activated Santa Claus by the window, “What’s that?” he asks, with that edge of cautious accusation he's so good at

“That is Santa.” He manages to say, right before Jihoon approaches it and inevitably—activates it. The Santa comes to life, twisting and turning and singing merrily. Almost instantly, there is a snarl that raises pretty much every hair on Seungcheol’s body, followed by a few other high pitched mewls, and a resounding crash as Jihoon knocks over a lampshade and a table as he scurries behind the couch.

“What the-“ Seungcheol breaks from his momentary stupor the pull the couch out. He finds the whimpering hybrid crouching in fear; spine arching, eyes wide and dark, an expression on his face verging on panic. 

“Woah-woah, Kitten.” Seungcheol gentles, pulling Jihoon into a reassuring hug. “It’s motion activated, it’s just a decoration.”

Jihoon sniffs a little, nuzzling against Seungcheol, but he’s still eyeing up the animatronic Santa with worrying intent, as if he's debating throwing water on it. “Why did you bring that thing here Seungcheol? It’s terrifying.” Jihoon mewls in distress.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would scare you. But I thought we could have a tree and decorate it.” Seungcheol explains, leaning down to pluck up a box of ornaments. “I thought it would be nice to do all the Christmas stuff together as a couple. I know it sounds really cheesy but I’ve never wanted to do all this stuff before and I thought it would be nice to do it with you.”

Jihoon moves one of the branches, leaving bits of pine all over the carpet and he makes a face like he's going to say something about that too, but then he finds something that jingles and he’s suddenly obsessed with pawing at it. “It does sound like a nice idea.” He replies with a warm smile of his own, which is promising.

“Besides, I need a Christmas tree to put all your presents under.” Seungcheol says, eyes, bright and affectionate.

Much to Seungcheol's amusement, the hybrids face lights up into an absolutely childish expression of glee. “Presents!?”

Seungcheol bobs his head emphatically, “Yeah, you can’t have Christmas without presents Jihoonie.”

Jihoon’s ears stand to attention, nose scrunching. “Why don’t you just give me the presents now?”

“I can’t do that! That’s cheating. And I haven’t wrapped them yet _and_ I’m still waiting for some to arrive. You can’t open your presents until Christmas day Jihoon—or else Santa will fuck your shit up.”

Jihoon eyeballs the motion activates Santa and bristles. “No, not that Santa. The _real_ Saint Nicholas. You know, the big jolly old man, who lives in the north pole. The one who _creeps_ down the chimney on Christmas eve when everyone is _sleeping_ and--” Seungcheol stops there because Jihoon is trying to hide behind the couch again.

 ………………….

They inevitably argue over the best way to decorate the Christmas tree, and Jihoon tries to claim that he's better at it. Whenever Seungcheol asks  _why_ , he just rolls his eyes and fixes him with a pitying expression that looks entirely too grown-up on his face. He's eventually able to piece together that it's all about his bauble placement strategy. Seungcheol is apparently incapable of grasping the intricacies of bauble placement fashion and is no help whatsoever.

Seungcheol had no idea there were tree decorating _rules_ ; he just picks an empty branch and hangs a bauble off it. Simple. But Jihoon argues that his half of the tree is hideous, then proceeds to redecorate Seungcheol’s half to his liking.

“You know—I can’t actually remember the last time I had a Christmas tree. I think it might have been when I was still living with my parents.” Seungcheol reflects, looking over at Jihoon, looking very engrossed in trying to place the string of lights just so.

“It’s nice to look at but it’s not what’s important. Christmas is about family and—togetherness?” Seungcheol says, then cringes, because he's fairly sure he'd gotten a little more 'lifetime movie' there than he originally intended.

Jihoon catches his tone, looks at him, and smiles. Just smiles. Dimples glorious and unclouded. “Seriously—I might actually be lactose intolerant to your cheesiness one day.” He giggles.

Seungcheol ducks his head and flushes, “Sorry, I’ll try and dial it down.” he says, stepping back to admire their efforts, basking in the glow of its lights. “Wow, it looks pretty awesome. Good job Jihoon. Excellent bauble placement.”

Jihoon plays his fingers over the branch tips and smiles at the way the glass bulbs ring like bells. “It looks amazing.” He whispers in awe.  

“Wait—“ Seungcheol gives it a more thorough once-over. "Something is missing. The star! It’s still in the car, I’ll go get it and you can put it on the top of the tree.” He says, backing out of the room.

He runs out to the car, grabs the bag with the last of the ornaments from the backseat and heads back inside. He pauses in the doorway leading into the front room when an ornament crunches under his boot.

He takes in the ornament-laden disaster that was once the Christmas tree in stages. It’s now lying on the floor, with a noticeable number of branches bent and or missing. The ornaments are scattered everywhere, tinsel shredded to pieces, Christmas lights flickering dangerously.

Seungcheol barely has time to contemplate what has happened when he hears a mournful string of howls. Jihoon is standing amidst the carnage, glancing nervously around the room, skittishly posed for an attack.

“What that fuck!” Seungcheol gasps, stepping further into the wreckage.

Jihoon yelps, head whipping round so quickly Seungcheol half expects to hear a snap. There’s guilt written all over his face before he rights himself immediately. He still looks cautious, a little embarrassed and a little bit ridiculously ruffled.

It’s a long moment before anyone speaks, and all it takes is a raised eyebrow from Seungcheol to have Jihoon do the work for him. “I don’t know what happened.” Jihoon says evenly.

Seungcheol stares at the hybrid, realisation slowly dawning all over his face. “Kitten, did you— _attack the tree?”_

“No.” Jihoon replies with a perfectly straight face, but his eyes are big and brown and sad and betray his projected innocence entirely. 

Seungcheol raises a dubious eyebrow, “Jihoon—you got tinsel in your hair—and,” he pauses to pick a bauble up off the floor. “There are scratch marks all over these baubles.”

 

Jihoon has the audacity to still look innocent after everything points to him savaging the tree. It doesn’t last long though, his ears flatten against his head as his face crumples into shame. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, not quite knowing what to say. It’s all the confirmation Seungcheol needs. “I don’t know. I just—I….I dunno. It looked so….pretty and,” He clearly feels bad about it. All awkward shuffling into Seungcheol's space, pulling tinsel out of his hair. “….I…I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol stares at him for a few seconds before he bursts out laughing. He bellows with laughter, so hard that he had to bend forwards and lean his hands against his thighs. He laughs until his stomach hurts and his eyes begin to water. Beside him, Jihoon's mouth has dropped open. “STOP LAUGHING!”

“You attacked the tree. So—funny—I—can’t,” Seungcheol wheezes.  Honestly, sometimes the hybrid is predictable as hell and sometimes he's so far out of left field Seungcheol ends up blinking at the sun wondering what the hell happened.

Jihoon is scratching the back of his head, looking sheepish and unsure – and so fucking endearing. “You’re not mad?” He whispers. He makes it sound like this is news even when Seungcheol's still smiling like a lunatic. He's not allowed to still be surprised that Seungcheol will take the path of least resistance and endless amusement when it comes to his hybrid traits.

“What? That you attacked the tree?” Seungcheol says, bending down abruptly to grab the tangle of lights looped around Jihoon’s tail. “No, I’m not mad. Why would I be?”

Jihoon doesn’t meet Seungcheol’s eyes. “Because I ruined Christmas.” he moans and drops his head in his hands. 

“You didn’t ruin anything Kitten,” Seungcheol soothes, curling his hands around the hybrids wrists and tugging his arms down to make Jihoon look at him. “It’s just a tree Jihoon. It doesn’t need to be here for us to have Christmas.”

“But you wanted to do all the Christmas traditions with me and I ruined it at the first hurdle.” Jihoon whines, horrified, tugging his wrists back from Seungcheol’s loose hold and throwing himself down on the sofa in despair.

Seungcheol smirks. He sits down and scoops the hybrid on his lap. “It’s not that big a deal. I can buy more decorations and tinsel, it’s okay.” He says, reaching down to stroke Jihoon’s silky ears reassuringly. Jihoon considers him for a moment before regally butting his head into the warm palm, inviting more petting.

Jihoon opens his eyes and looks at him blearily.  “What if I attack the new decorations?”

“Then I’ll just buy more.” Seungcheol says honestly, nosing against the satin fun behind Jihoon’s ear.

Jihoon sighs contentedly, warm breath huffing across Seungcheol’s neck as he wriggles even closer, kneading his chest. “And if I attack those too?” He whispers, nuzzling affectionately.

“Then we can stick the tree on the ceiling or something, somewhere you can’t reach it. Maybe use cucumbers instead of baubles.” Seungcheol offers.

"Funny." Jihoon's tone of voice makes sure to tell him that it really, really isn't.

** Eggnog **

Jihoon boosts himself up onto the counter beside Seungcheol, heels knocking absently against the cabinets as he watches Seungcheol stir up a batch of eggnog from a recipe he pilfered off the internet. At least it’s a recipe he can’t mess up—just a few ingredients.

Unlike that batch of Christmas cookies he tried to make. Easy as pie, he’d thought. He was reconsidering this when he pulled the first batch out of the oven, only to find the batter was so runny, the cookies had merged into one MEGA cookie that remained fairly glued to the tray.

The second batch was more successful, only because Jihoon had taken over the baking process. Jihoon’s Christmas cookies came out perfectly, finished with an elaborate flair; Seungcheol’s looked like a kindergartener had been helping Jihoon out. Oh, well.

“What are you making?” Jihoon asks, tilting his head curiously.

“Eggnog.”

Jihoon’s ears prick forward, interested, and he sniffs along the rim of the tumbler. “What’s that?”

“It’s a mixture off rum, milk, cream and eggs.”

Jihoon gives him a perturbed look. “That sounds disgusting.”

“It _is_ disgusting!” Seungcheol smoothly agrees.

He bumps his foot against Seungcheol’s thigh and giggles contently, Seungcheol likes making him do that. “Then why are you making it?”

“It’s an acquired taste and I’m trying to expand my palate. Anyway, it’s a Christmas tradition and I thought I’d give it a shot.” Seungcheol says, pouring out two cups of eggnog, smelling like cream and liquor. One for him and a small one for Jihoon. They’ve both learnt the hard way (read: hilarious) that Jihoon doesn’t handle alcohol very well.

Jihoon watches him take a sip like it might actually make him explode. It's fucking sickening, just like Seungcheol remembers it, but it slides down in a way that makes him forget - or maybe not even realise - exactly how much booze he'd snuck into it.

Seungcheol lowers the cup. "Needs more liqueur, and more cream—and less eggs." he says thoughtfully.

Jihoon very cautiously raises a hand and takes the cup from him. He looks wary, but he obediently raises the cup for a cautious lap, eyes closing briefly as he considers. He looks up, finds Seungcheol watching him, and Seungcheol's not entirely sure what expression is on his own face but it makes Jihoon tilt the cup to take a bigger gulp. He clears his throat and attempts - _but mostly fails_ \- to look like he’s enjoying it.

“Do you want me to make you hot chocolate instead Jihoonie?” Seungcheol offers with a warm smile.

“Yes, please.”

** Christmas Cards **

“I don’t like it.” Jihoon snaps, turning and posing in the new outfit Seungcheol has bought him.  He’s also wearing an expression of extreme condescending distaste that does not seem in keeping with the Christmas cheer or his precious outfit.

“Oh?”

“I look ridiculous.” Jihoon pouts and it’s doubly adorable when he’s sporting a Santa hat like he’s never been more ashamed of a piece of headgear. “Is this really an important tradition?”

Seungcheol's half tempted to be honest and tell him 'no’, but then he might be robbing himself of the pleasure of watching Jihoon walk around dressed so festively. It had taken a fair bit of negotiation and wheedling to get Jihoon into that outfit, as the hybrid seemed more resistant than usual to his sweet-talking. Now that he’s wearing it—Seungcheol can’t bring himself to feel guilty about a little white lie.

 “Yes, _yes it is_. It’s one of the _most important_ Christmas traditions. And you don’t look like ridiculous—you look precious.”

Jihoon struggles to scowl through his bashful smile, resulting in a demented-looking leer that’s too adorable for words. “Do I have to wear the whole outfit though? The material is really scratchy.”

“You’re not going to be wearing it for long—I just want a few photos for our Christmas Card.” Seungcheol pacifies.

Jihoon appears to think about it. “If it’s _OUR_ Christmas card, then why are you not in the photograph with me?” He asks pointedly.

“Because I don’t have a cute little outfit.” He offers. It’s a lie—he has a hideous Christmas jumper tucked away in the back of the wardrobe, but to hell with that.

“And why don’t you have an outfit?” Jihoon asks cautiously.

“They don’t make my size.” Seungcheol deflects. Jihoon doesn't respond, but his expression is angry and measured and conveys an unmistakable message: ' _Bullshit_.'.

“C’mon, pose for me.” Seungcheol grins, angling the camera.

Jihoon gives him a put-upon, long-suffering  _if you insist_  sigh that Seungcheol has become an expert at ignoring.

The fight soon fades from the hybrid after Seungcheol starts snapping photographs, he’s still scowling in indignation the entire time, but that’s his default expression, and he’s still hella cute.

“This, this here is the perfect picture to go on the front of my card.” Seungcheol announces, pointing at the display.

“But it wouldn’t hurt to get a few more. Can I get one of you next to the animatronic Santa?” He suggests tentatively.

“Don’t push your luck Cheollie!” Jihoon snaps, swishing his tail angrily as he storms out of the room.

Seungcheol’s manages to keep a straight face until Jihoon rounds the corner, the tiny bell on his tail jingling as he leaves. He sits back on the couch and takes a sip of his revolting egg nog, which he’s pretty sure no longer classifies as eggnog with all the stuff he’s dumped in it. He flicks through the camera reel, grin widening as he examines his efforts. “I love Christmas.”

** Snow **

The next morning, Seungcheol wakes up to find Jihoon standing at the bedroom window with a solemn and serious expression on his face. “What are you looking at Jihoonie?” he asks, thinking Jihoon is probably starring daggers at a domestic cat that has creeped into his territory.

Jihoon presses his nose up against the window, then turns to look forlornly at Seungcheol, “It’s snowing.” He huffs.

Seungcheol glances out the window, and it is indeed snowing, more than Seungcheol has ever seen in his lifetime. These are serious snowflakes, thick and business-like. The light in the sky is gray and flat and although Seungcheol is no expert, he is fairly sure the city is settling in to get battered with heavy snow.

He silently fist pumps the air at the thought of a snow day. There's nothing quite like waking up, looking out the window, and realizing you don't have to do anything or go anywhere at all. It's a blank check for laziness. How can he possibly be expected to get to work in this weather?

He quickly dons his winter gear and walks outside, crushing the snow under his boots as he steps over the threshold.  It’s such a complete white-out, he can't even make out the shape of the trees in the landscape. There is an otherworldly hush that only snowfall can bring; the noise of traffic and people has died down as the ground is blanketed in silence.

“Woah! Come on Jihoon, come outside, you’ve got to see this.” Seungcheol cheers, watching the hybrid standing at the doorway.

Seungcheol pauses as Jihoon releases a pitiful mewl, he spins around to find the hybrid standing stiff, looking around the freshly fallen snow in despair.

Seungcheol wonders if this is the cause of Jihoon’s mood “What’s wrong Kitten?”

“Snow.” Jihoon says, sounding stricken.

“Snow’s wrong? What’s wrong with snow? You don’t like it?” he asks, his breath curling in the cold air.

“No.” Jihoon says stubbornly, crossing his arms and glaring at him like it's  _his_  fault there is snow everywhere, like Seungcheol controls the weather.

“You _don’t_ like snow?” He says disbelievingly.

Jihoon nods.

“What about snow angels?”

“No.”

“What if we make a snow man?” Seungcheol offers with a hopeful grin.

“No.” Jihoon says, wrinkling his nose.

“Okay, what about-a snow ball fight?” He says, lowering just enough to scoop up some snow in his hand. He rounds it into ball in his fist and takes a step backwards, but Jihoon stops him with a glare.

“ _No_ ,” Jihoon growls, and the word resonates low enough to curl in Seungcheol’s gut and he drops the ball instantly.

“Have you ever—tried liking it?” Seungcheol asks, feeling exasperation settle tiredly beneath his skin.

Jihoon shrugs his shoulders. “What’s to like? It’s cold, wet—and cold.” Jihoon doesn’t like cold things.

Seungcheol tilts his head thoughtfully, “Okay, I agree, it _is_ cold. But it’s fun! How about you try it. Just step outside, touch some snow and if it troubles you that much—we’ll go back inside.”

Jihoon gives Seungcheol a look that says he isn’t sure he trusts what he’s saying, but he gives a sigh that sounds like surrender and takes a tentative step out of the door. Then another and another.

He’s cautiously made his way just past the porch, when the snow on the roof chooses that precise moment to dislodge itself. Seungcheol’s eyes widen a half-second before it all goes to hell. Before he can do anything to stop it, an avalanche of small proportions descends upon the hybrid, covering him in snow.

Seungcheol sucks in a deep breath, closes his eyes, swears silently and opens them again. “I totally didn’t see that coming.” He manages to say before Jihoon releases a shrill mewl—which in turn, dislodges more snow from the roof with its force.

The sound of hysterical mewling is gradually fading away as more snow covers Jihoon, before his cries are cut off entirely.

“Oh god!” Seungcheol grimaces.

When the snow settles, Jihoon is still and silent underneath the tiny mountain, his little head poking out of the top—a sad little snowman. He has that  _look_  on his face that always makes Seungcheol want to shout at things or punch people or do whatever it takes to fix it, make everything all right again, because it’s  _Jihoon_  and Jihoon deserves to be happy.

Seungcheol runs over to him, digging him out as quickly as possible and lifting him out of his snowy cocoon. Jihoon closes his small fist into Seungcheol’s jacket, clinging to him. “Cold.” Is all he manages to whimper.

“I swear to God, I had no idea that was going to happen Kitten, don’t be mad.” He pleads breathlessly as he carries Jihoon back into the warmth and safety of the house.

Jihoon nods, looking too stricken by too many different snowy concerns to even articulate any of them. It’s a bad state of affairs when snow strikes Jihoon speechless.

 

** Christmas Carolers **

It’s safe to say, snow is a now go zone for feline hybrids. Who knew?

Jihoon’s a lot happier sitting inside watching people _‘suffer’_ in the snow from the window, apparently.

After his highly unpleasant experience with snow, Seungcheol ran him a hot bath (extra bubbles) and bundled him in an obscenely fuzzy jumper, before they settled by the roaring fireplace.

A Christmas movie plays silently, throwing flickering shadows across the room. When Seungcheol glances over, he can’t resist a smile when he watches Jihoon curled into a contented ball by his hip; already hovering on the languid verge of unconsciousness. With his heavy eyes and drooping ears and oversized jumper; everything about him looks so soft and cuddly.

After a while, Seungcheol’s hand comes to rest on the back of the hybrid’s head, fingers combing drowsily through his silken locks. Jihoon shifts closer to him on the couch, insinuating his way under Seungcheol’s blanket, tucking his toes under Seungcheol’s thigh for extra warmth. “I’m sorry I don’t like snow.” He says, butting his head against Seungcheol’s chin, soft ears tickling.

His dark tail flip-flops, then curls lazily in the air, all but begging for attention. Seungcheol reaches down to stroke it softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to stop that snow avalanche. But we _technically_ made a snow man—or, snow _hybrid,_ even if you weren’t consenting.” Seungcheol grins.

Jihoon giggles, eyes bright with good humour, a small smile curving pouting lips. “It’s not your fault, I just-“ He pauses, ears standing to attention as he turns towards the window. “What’s that noise?”

He uncurls himself from his blanket nest and pads over to the window, staring out at it raptly. “I can hear people singing— _poorly_.” He says, his voice rough with irritation.

Seungcheol joins him by the window, drawing the curtain open slightly to look. It’s picture-perfect outside. The street is blanketed in the hush of snow, Christmas lights glowing from underneath the delicate white lace of frost.

In the distance, Seungcheol _can_ hear people actually fucking caroling. Singing an off-key “White Christmas” like they’re living in a fucking Hallmark movie.

“Yeah, those are Christmas carolers. It’s traditional for them to walk around the neighbourhood, going from door to door to spread—cheer or whatever. Usually the collect donations for charity.”

Jihoon snorts derisively. “They sound like Christmas vultures.”

“What? No—it’s very Christmassy. Okay, the singing _is_ awful and _sure_ —there is that awkward moment when they keep singing and you just stand their listening and they don’t stop, and you don’t know what to do to get them to stop and you don’t know when it’s socially appropriate to slam the door in their face, but-” Seungcheol pauses when he realises Jihoon is no longer standing at his side and he’s talking to himself.

“Jihoon?” He calls out just as the garden sprinklers come on.

It’s the middle of December and the temperature is below freezing—but the sprinklers are still working it seems. Seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise as the carolers run screaming from the lawn, dashing through the fucking snow to get away from the freezing spray.

It’s hard to know whether to be surprised or horrified so Seungcheol settles for trying to feel vaguely bemused by the whole thing.

Soon Jihoon is by his side again, grinning totally unapologetically and pulling back the curtains to inspect the dispersed crowd.

Seungcheol’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. He really  _doesn’t_  know why he’s surprised anymore – Jihoon is a sneaky little shit at the best of times.

“Jihoon, did you turn the sprinklers on?” he says at last. Though it's a rhetorical question, really, because Jihoon's still grinning like a lunatic, with the sort of endearing smugness that only ever seems to come from someone else's misfortune.

“I just went to get a drink. You can’t prove anything.”

Seungcheol refrains from sighing, rolling his eyes and pinching his nose melodramatically, but only because Jihoon seems to take that as a win.

** Food **

Jihoon’s gleeful good cheer revives itself when they start their Christmas food shopping. Seungcheol has planned ahead this year. He’s smart. He’s doing their Christmas food shopping in stages.

Stage 1: Make a list for all the food he needs for Christmas.

Stage 2: Buy everything early.

Stage 3: Eat it all.

Stage 4: Go out and buy everything all over again.

They’re currently at stage four. Because it’s their first Christmas as a couple, Seungcheol has gone all out—and it isn’t even Christmas, yet. The shopping cart is loaded down with more food than the two of them could possible eat in a month.

It’s Seungcheol’s way of contingency planning in case a snowstorm traps them indoors but now Jihoon is looking a teensy bit overwhelmed by the three different types of festive bird he’s placed in the cart,  _just in case_. The hybrid had almost passed out when Seungcheol explained the concept of a _‘Turk-duck-en’_ to him.

They’re currently in the chilled goods aisle and Seungcheol spends far too much time just watching Jihoon trying to decide between two different types of chocolate pudding, lush lower lip caught in his teeth in concentration.

“I don’t know which one we should get. This one has chocolate on the _inside_ (his favourite), the other is _covered_ in chocolate (also his favourite).”

Seungcheol strokes a hand down the length of Jihoon’s back, then back up to toy with the short little hairs at the nape of his neck. “Buy both!” He suggests cheerfully.

“That’s a lot more food than we need Cheol!” Jihoon gasps as Seungcheol plucks both puddings off the shelf and dumps them in their cart.

“No it’s not. It’s important to fill the house with food at Christmas, even if we don’t eat half of it. It’s a Christmas tradition Jihoon.

“You’ve been saying that all day Cheol!” Jihoon tuts, disapproval creeping into his tone. “I’m still pretty sure we’re not gonna need three tubs of cheese biscuits.”

“You never know Jihoon. Maybe we will. It’s better to buy them and not eat them, then not buy them and live in regret.”

Seungcheol expertly steers a noticeably distracted Jihoon through the aisles, and makes sure to add a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue to the shopping trolley because he’s always wanted to try it. It’s the last on the shelf, just his luck.

One minute Seungcheol is inspecting the imported beers selection, the next he’s struggling to breathe. He looks down to find Jihoon pressed up against him, arms clamped around his waist and head tucked into his chest. Jihoon mewls, tugging on his jacket and tapping Seungcheol’s face with his tail, and unleashing the huge and wide ‘Kitten Eyes’ on him.

He’s about to ask what’s wrong when he looks down the aisle to find Joshua and Jeonghan standing a little ways away with their own shopping cart. Jihoon literally hisses when Jeonghan pushes the cart closer, showing off sharp incisors as his pupils slit and narrow in a feral glare.

“Are you kidding me!! It’s almost been a year Jihoon. Will you relax! We’re not going to change our minds and ask for you back!” Jeonghan scolds, commendably defiant in the face of one of Jihoon’s more terrifying scowls.

Seungcheol’s hand immediately comes up to pet the hybrid in a soothing gesture, fingers rubbing between his cat ears reassuringly. To his credit, Jihoon makes a valiant effort to carry on glowering and being bad-tempered. He tucks his head into Seungcheol’s neck, and tightens his tail around his waist, sulky and possessive. 

“Hi Guys.” Seungcheol greets amiably, despite Jihoon’s unhappy mewl of protest. “Doing your Christmas shopping guys? You don’t seem to be buying much.” he comments, peering into the almost empty shopping cart.

Jeonghan tightens his death grip on the cart, like he thinks maybe Seungcheol's admittedly underhanded history in acquiring their hybrid has led to him doing creepy and sinister out of character things, like stealing other people’s shopping.

“We’re not spending Christmas at home this year.” Joshua cheerfully informs him. “My parents have invited us over to spend Christmas with them. We’re just stopping in to pick up some whiskey my father has requested. It’s out of stock in almost every shop in the city.”

“ _Aanndd_ —it’s out of stock here too.” Jeonghan sighs, deflating as he inspects the empty shelf.

“Huh. Funny you mention that, I just picked up the last bottle for myself.” Seungcheol quirks his brow, lifting the bottle out of his cart and waving it, heedless of the way that Jeonghan’s nostrils flare.

“Alright Seungcheol,” Jeonghan starts, pushing himself away from the shelves of bourbon he is leaning against and rolling up his sleeves, like he’s about to challenge Seungcheol to a duel. “—I’m a lawyer, okay. I know how negotiations work. What’s it going to be? $500? $600? $1000?” He offers, wagging a finger at him and scowling for all he’s worth.

Seungcheol lets out a deeply unflattering snort, “Chill, you can just have it.”

“Hard bargain eh? Okay $5,000— _Wait, what?”_ He blinks, caught off-guard.

“I haven’t bought it yet anyway. It’s just a whiskey I’ve always wanted to try but it’s clearly more important for you guys to have it. Especially if Jeonghan’s breaking out his wacky _‘negotiation skills’_.” Seungcheol teases. It feels a little like a peace offering, though he’s not sure why Jeonghan is so irritable in the first place, or why he even cares.

Both Jeonghan and Joshua look at him with identical expressions of alarm.

 “Thank you Seungcheol—that’s very kind of you.” Joshua says graciously, recovering first.

“Yes—kind. _Indeed.”_ Jeonghan concedes grudgingly “Merry Christmas to you both.” he adds quite politely, although Seungcheol can hear the disdain in his voice.

“You could have wiped the floor with them Cheollie. Why were you so nice?” Jihoon whispers, looking up at him with the sort of glowing adoration he can only muster for chicken and especially large dishes of ice cream.

“Because they gave me you.” Seungcheol says, kissing the tip of his nose.

** Christmas Songs **

_‘Driving home for Christmas’_

“Veto!” Jihoon announces, switching the station for the millionth time.

“What? But it’s a classic.” Seungcheol argues.

Jihoon fiddles with the dial, and watches Seungcheol with a calculating look that makes him incredibly nervous. “Classically boring. It’s too late anyway, I’ve changed it now.”

_‘I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need.”_

Seungcheol sings along softly, absently, before clamping his jaw together with a snap when Jihoon looks at him with an aura of silent judgment. “What?”

Jihoon squirms in his seat before reaching for the dial. “I need to Veto this song! So sick of Mariah Carey and her endless search for love.”

“You can’t be serious, Mariah has the voice of an angel.” Seungcheol gasps, before being treated to another one of Jihoon’s disappointed head shakes. “Okay, change it.” He relents, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

_‘Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell—‘_

“Veto!” Jihoon slams the dashboard.

“C’mon Jihoon! You can’t hate the Jingle Bell Rock, it’s like—the essence of Christmas.” Seungcheol snaps, batting his hand away when he reaches for the radio dial.

“It’s so old! So—clichéd. I’ve heard it like a million times already. It feels like I’m trapped in a time warp in here!” He whines and Seungcheol can sense the implication of superiority in his voice.

“That’s the same for all Christmas songs! Everyone’s heard them a million times. That’s what makes them so special.” Seungcheol says in despair.

Jihoon stares at him expectantly and Seungcheol can’t handle the way that he manages to make him feel both foolishly immature and unbearably old all at the same time. “Focus on driving and I’ll focus on the music choices Cheol.” Jihoon says, changing the music before Seungcheol can stop him.

Seungcheol just quirks a meaningful eyebrow and lets impatience show on his face.

_‘Silent--’_

“Veto!”

_‘Dashing through the-’_

“Veto!”

_‘Last Christmas, I gave you my-’_

“Veto!”

“That’s it. No more Veto’s. You have officially ran out of Veto’s Jihoon. The next Christmas song that plays, we are listening to it whether you like it or not.” Seungcheol says sternly.

Jihoon huffs but indulges him, leaning forward and fiddling a while, before sitting back in his seat as the car fills with the crooning voice of Michael Buble.

_‘Sleigh bells ring—are ya listenin’_

For a few minutes silence reigns, until Seungcheol sighs gustily and reaches out to switch stations this time.

Jihoon’s eyebrows leap up as he watches him cut the song short. “Thought you said we were gonna listen to the next song Cheollie?”

Seungcheol bites his cheek to hold back his sheepish smile. “Yeah, I know what I said. But—I really fucking hate Michael Buble.”

Jihoon’s answering snort is eloquent.

** Presents **

Seungcheol doesn’t like Christmas shopping this close to Christmas Day. He’s managed to buy most of his gifts online to save him the hassle of dealing with the aggressive crowds. The general population's ability to delude itself never ceases to surprise him. People can get _pretty insane_ around the holiday season in their rush to buy the _‘perfect gift’_ before all the good deals are gone.

Seungcheol stands in the centre of a department store, somewhere between the lingerie section and the food court, feeling a little smothered by the thick garlands of fairy lights, the fake snow and the pressing crowds of duffel-coated frantic shoppers. The tunes being piped into the store are on a loop. He’s pretty sure he’s hear Michael fucking Buble’s rendition of ‘Winter Wonderland’ at least four times now (once is enough), and he has a headache of such magnitude that his vision is starting to go a little fuzzy at the edges.

He wants to go home, but Jihoon is still— _browsing_. He seems a little distracted during their trip, glancing around suspiciously at Seungcheol every few minutes.

The next time he narrows his eyes at Seungcheol, Seungcheol takes a step forward. “What are you looking for exactly Jihoon? If you tell me I can help you look.”

Jihoon sighs. He slides the folded cashmere sweater he has been clutching back onto the shelf. “Can we split up for an hour or something?”

Seungcheol blinks in surprise. “Uhh—okay. How about I meet you by the fountain downstairs at 6.45?” He suggests.

Jihoon makes a little noise of agreement, a thoughtful murmur before rushing off towards the escalator.

Seungcheol grabs a coffee, does some window shopping, gets inadvertently side-tracked by 464992047 Charity groups who appear in his line of vision and try and forcibly coerce him to sign up to monthly charitable donations, before making his way over to the fountain display to meet Jihoon.

The Hybrid is distracted, peering into his shopping bag, inspecting the contents when Seungcheol slides an arm around his waist from behind and rests his chin on his shoulder. “You get what you needed Jihoonie?”

Jihoon immediately gets this shifty-eyed look like he’s been caught with his hands down his pants. “Who says I was buying anything?” He hedges.

 Seungcheol is startled by the steely conviction in his voice. “Nobody, I just assumed you were, cause we’re in a mall. And, also you have a lot more shopping bags then when we split up.”

Jihoon’s back to looking supremely guilty, like Seungcheol has caught him doing something wrong. He hides the shopping bags behind his back, like he’s hoping Seungcheol will forget what he already saw. “You can’t look.” He pouts.

Seungcheol bites his cheek to supress a grin, but lifts his hands up placatingly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

** Ice Skating **

“Okay, I’m ready to go!” Jihoon announces from the doorway, jiggling impatiently on the balls of his feet.

Seungcheol blinks as he takes in the sight of the hybrid before him, working from top to bottom he catalogues Jihoon’s clothing choice for the wintery evening ahead. Jihoon’s wearing suitably appropriate (if somewhat obscene) bright pink earmuffs, a jumper, a jacket, gloves and— _shorts._

He’s wearing shorts. In the middle of December.

Seungcheol sucks in a steadying breath. “Jihoon—it’s minus five outside and you’re wearing shorts?”

Jihoon drops his head to inspect his own attire. “Yeah—so?”

“It’s freezing, put on a pair of jeans or something.” Seungcheol says incredulously.

“All my jeans are in the wash and—these shorts go with my outfit.” Jihoon argues. He seems to think that's the important part. Fashion over death.

“Does hypothermia go with your outfit too?”

Jihoon pouts, he honest-to-god pouts. “Cheol—I know how to dress weather appropriate okay. I’m a hybrid! My body temperature runs higher than most. I can handle a drop below zero, so let’s just go!”

Seungcheol sighs in surrender. Sometimes he had to hit Jihoon over the head with the assessment of possibility, but the thing about living with the hybrid was that it taught Seungcheol to be smart enough to pick his battles. “Okay, fine. But don’t complain to me if you’re freezing later. I can give you my jacket but I can’t exactly take my jeans off for you to wear.”

“I won’t complain.” Jihoon claims adamantly.

…………………..

The outdoor ice rink they go to is essentially a large pond in the park that gets transformed this time of year. It’s brightly lit with droves and droves of haphazard and half-heartedly flung lights and when the sun sets, the thick blankets of snow on the grass are lit up like a sparkling winter wonderland. It might look like something straight off a Christmas Postcard, but it’s deathly cold and the air is so sharp it slices like a knife to breathe.

Couples and families are everywhere, skiing and skating hand in hand. Jihoon is the sole grumpy outlier, standing tentatively on a patch of ice near the edge, scowling.

“Having fun?” Seungcheol asks, digging his skates in the ice as he draws to a stop near the shivering hybrid.

“Y-yes.” Jihoon stutters, his breath ghosting out into the air around them. The careful, pleasantly calm mask shifts for an instant as the hybrid shivers and closes his eyes. His ears flatten against his head, probably an attempt to retain some warmth. It hurts Seungcheol to look at him.

It’s clear that he’s freezing his tiny little ass off. He's already wearing Seungcheol’s jacket - because of course Seungcheol dresses for the weather and was kind enough to lend it to him - which Jihoon would have refused, had he been able to put up a suitable protest through the sound of his teeth smashing together.

“I’m actually really good at this. I surprised myself actually, I usually have terrible balance but it’s like a Christmas miracle I’ve been able to stay up right for so long.” Seungcheol admires, skating in lazy circles.

“I haven’t fallen down once either.” Jihoon murmurs smugly, he's breathing out plumes of warmth that he can't afford to lose.

“You also haven’t moved once since you got on the ice rink. You haven’t had the opportunity to fall.”

“I’m j-just enj-joying the atmosp-phere,” Jihoon replies carefully. His voice is a fraction less steady, and Seungcheol's pretty sure that's the cold.

Seungcheol stares at him, cataloguing the red tips of Jihoon’s ears, the curling wave to the hair that he keeps pushing back from his forehead, the shadow of blue on his frostbitten lips that he keeps trying to lick, the puff of his breath crystallizing in the air in front of them.

“You wouldn’t happen to be cold now—would you Jihoonie?” Seungcheol asks, barely supressing the wry quirk threatening his lips.

The hybrid shakes his head, clearly trying to pretend he isn’t shivering, but his body is vibrating so violently, Seungcheol’s surprised he hasn’t drilled through the ice. “I’m f-fine, n-never warmer.” He says, He flashes a calculatedly carefree smile Seungcheol’s way; Seungcheol resists the temptation to roll his eyes heavenwards. Who does Jihoon think he’s fooling?

It starts to snow, one of the brief little flurries that kicks up sometimes. Seungcheol sticks out his tongue and a few thick snowflakes fall on it.

Jihoon looks up at the snowflakes and frowns, as if he doesn’t look lovely with the white of the snow settling in his hair and on the fur of his tiny cat ears. “It’s snowing.” He groans and Seungcheol is still amazed how Jihoon can make it sound like some sort of horrible plague.

Seungcheol takes a step closer to him, crowding into his personal space a bit, and grins as Jihoon presses his nose into his neck, hunting for warmth, “Let’s go back to the car Kitten.”

“If you say so.” says Jihoon into Seungcheol’s neck, where his face is pressed contentedly. Seungcheol laces his fingers through Jihoon’s and tugs him away, back out onto the edge of the pond. They return their skates to the little shelter by the rink set up for renting and head to the car.

“I wasn’t cold by the way.” Jihoon claims, when they climb back into the car. “It was your choice to get back in the car.” he says, trying to recover some dignity. Difficult considering he’s practically trembling in his seat while trying to re-arrange Seungcheol’s jacket over his legs.

“I know you weren’t Kitten. It was me. I was cold. Sorry for cutting the trip short.” Seungcheol replies easily, eyes crinkling, at least relieved that Jihoon’s teeth are no longer chattering.

“It’s fine. I forgive you but you _should_ learn to dress more weather appropriate in the future Cheol.” Jihoon admonishes dryly, although Seungcheol can tell his cheeks would be red with a guilty blush if they weren’t already from the cold.

 “Yes, I will. _Thank you_ Jihoon, that is sound advice.” Seungcheol monotones.

A deeper flush pinks the shell of Jihoon’s ears as he worries his lip thoughtfully. “Would you—like me to sit on your lap and warm you up?”

“If you don’t mind.” Seungcheol grins at him, leaning back in his seat, then all at once Jihoon is _on_ Seungcheol, holding him back against the seat while he squeezes his body in front of the steering wheel. He ends up basically on Seungcheol’s lap, with Seungcheol’s hands closing around his hips.

“Uhhhhh.” Jihoon shudders blissfully as Seungcheol tucks him in against his chest, wrapping his jacket around the hybrid and rubbing warmth back into his legs.

“Better?” Seungcheol says, reaching up to rub the pointed tips of Jihoon’s cat-ears between his fingers and laughing throatily when Jihoon makes a blissful purring sound. 

“Yeah— _thanks.”_ Jihoon smiles against Seungcheol’s neck, nosing his way along his jaw. “Sorry—I should’ve,” Jihoon began, but Seungcheol silences him with a quick finger to his lips.

“It’s okay—“ He whispers, sweeping his hand down the shapely length of Jihoon’s back, settling his palm on they hybrids delectable ass. “This right here—Is so much better than ice skating anyway.” He says and kisses Jihoon softly, until Jihoon hums with pleasure and shifts closer to him.

** Mistletoe **

They’re sharing a table at a small, crowded pavement café in the city centre. The kind where you’re really paying for the location and view instead of the monstrous calorific creations they churn out. But it’s perfect for people watching and Jihoon loves doing that, looking at the people milling around on the street and judging their fashion choices.

“Why are those people kissing?” Jihoon asks suddenly.

“It’s mistletoe.” Seungcheol replies, not looking up from his newspaper. “It’s a small white bud that people hang up. If you meet anyone as you pass under it, you have to kiss them.” He explains, sparing Jihoon a brief glance as he flips to the next page.

Jihoon looks thoughtful; leaning back in his chair, watching a small crowd in the distance. Couples taking turns to stand and kiss under a mistletoe arch that has been erected for the festive season.

“That’s—cute.” The hybrid pauses, then turns his head slightly, dark eyes meeting Seungcheol's own for a moment before skipping away to blindly search the crowd. “Is that another Christmas tradition?” he murmurs.

The rest of the question goes unspoken, but Seungcheol knows what he wants to say. He’s unpicking Jihoon’s private revelations almost as soon as he becomes aware of them himself. Eyes drawn to the restless flick of Jihoon’s cat ears and the meditative motion of his tail. Jihoon _could_ be asking anything, but he can’t hide his feelings well. His poker face is terrible. And right now, he looks as vulnerable as Seungcheol has ever seen him.

“Yeah it is. You wanna kiss under it?” Seungcheol asks softly, wanting to give the hybrid everything.

There’s a carefully concealed flash of excitement in Jihoon’s eyes that makes Seungcheol’s stomach swoop. “Really? You—would kiss me in public?” Jihoon says, barely a whisper.

“Of course I would Jihoon. I love you.” Seungcheol tells him, warm and too-honest in his happiness.

Jihoon’s eyes soften around the edges and his lips twitch. The early warning signs of a smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just. I know people stare when we hold hands and,” He pauses and turns away, and the discomfort sits like a painful weight across his shoulders, “I didn’t want to ask you to, in case it made _you_ uncomfortable.” He murmurs, averting his gaze.

His hair is tumbling forward over his forehead, making him appear oddly young and Seungcheol experiences the same twitch of protectiveness Jihoon always seems to inspire in him, to tuck him up against him and keep the rest of the world out. They’ve been together almost a year and he can’t believe he hadn’t notice before how nervous Jihoon is about all of this.

As their relationship progressed, Seungcheol’s lamentable lack of self-control hadn’t exactly been _tamed_ , but with Jihoon’s help he _had_ clamped down on the feral need which buzzed through his veins. It’s a daily struggle and Seungcheol knows that beneath his skin, the wildness is still there; he can feel the hum of it whenever Jihoon is close, he is still acutely tuned to sense Jihoon’s emotions.

Seungcheol makes Jihoon look him in the eye, guiding him with a gentle but bossy hand on his jaw. “Don’t be afraid to ask me for anything. I don’t give a shit what people think. You should know that.”

He doesn’t say another word – just takes Jihoon’s hand and squeezes, stroking the back of it with his thumb and lifting it to his mouth for a small, reassuring kiss before tugging him towards the arch of mistletoe on display.

Seungcheol doesn’t even hesitate. He just curls one hand around Jihoon’s waist, tugs him stumbling closer under the sprig of mistletoe and presses their lips together. Instinctively he slides his other hand around to rest at the base of Jihoon’s throat, feeling the tiny mewl Jihoon makes as a vibration against his palm.

They kiss with an edge of wildness that makes Seungcheol’s blood sing and his heart pound in his ears. Seungcheol’s head is spinning; he barely is aware of his body except for where their mouths meet. He hears a low groan of pleasure and realizes that it’s himself— wrecked and desperate from this one simple kiss. Jihoon’s tongue is there for the barest flash of time before it’s gone again, and Seungcheol leans forward, intent on chasing it.

He takes his time before drawing back just far enough to murmur against Jihoon’s lips. “Love you.” Then presses their foreheads together instead, content to let their breaths mingle.

Jihoon looks startled but pleased. Seungcheol thinks he might be blushing. “Love you too, Cheollie.” His eyes have fluttered closed, one of his subtler signs of arousal.

Their noses are touching. Seungcheol can feel every breath Jihoon takes, can hear Jihoon’s heart beat faster and faster, his scent turning sweet with anticipation—

“Are you as turned on as I am?” Seungcheol asks, gaze flickering down to Jihoon's kiss-slick lips then back to his eyes. Jihoon nods, but he doesn’t say anything, just grips onto Seungcheol tighter.

They stand there in a daze; still in the same position, Jihoon rubbing his nose against his own. When Jihoon opens his eyes, they stare at each other for a long, breathless moment. Seungcheol forgets to breathe when he sees the pure, unfettered emotion in those brown eyes, the devotion and love he feels equally reflected.

Jihoon reaches down to take his hand, and something warm, encouraging, and utterly sinful drips down his spine as the hybrid whispers, “Are there other traditions we can _participate in_ while we’re under here?”

Seungcheol tears his eyes from Jihoon by reluctant force of will, “Not unless we want to get arrested.” He laughs breathlessly, and because the swell of want and heat and hunger in his chest is nearly too much, he takes hold of Jihoon’s wrist again and pulls him out of from under the arch and somewhere more private.

 

** Christmas Eve **

Seungcheol grumbles as he swings the car door open and steps into a puddle of icy slush.  He continues grumbling as he hefts his briefcase out of the car and trudges up the front steps. And he grumbles even more as he puts the key in the lock and opens the door.

He stumbles into the house, pausing on the threshold to brush snow off his shoulders before it can melt into his jacket and stomping the snow off his boots before toeing them off.

Based on the silence that greets him as he enters the house, Jihoon has already gone to sleep.

_Fucking perfect._

He sighs wearily and runs a hand through his hair and calls himself a dozen types of stupid. He’d planned something special for tonight and hoped to be home earlier, but work took longer to wrap up than previously anticipated and Christmas Eve traffic was a nightmare.

He still hasn't worked out how exactly he's going to salvage this when the doorbell rings. When he opens the door, there’s a van pulling away from the curb, its headlights cutting through a fresh flurry of snow. And in front of him on the porch—is a box.

It’s a large cardboard box with markings on the side and he grins when he reads the _‘This way up’_ and _‘Fragile’_ warning plastered on the box. His smile takes a nostalgic bend, wry and fond in the same expression. Mindfully, he drags it in out of the cold and into the corridor, trailing snow and frigid air.

Once it’s inside the front room, he doesn’t hesitate to pull the tab on the top, watching with anticipation as the sides fall open slowly.

He doesn’t expect to be surprised, but the sight of Jihoon sitting primly in the basket, with nothing but red lacy pants, a furry white collar with a bell, drives the air from his lungs and makes his knees feel unreasonably weak.

In a quick movement too fluid to be real, the hybrid rolls to his hands and knees, tail lashing eagerly behind him for a moment before flicking twice at the tip, the invitation too obvious to ignore.

Seungcheol opens his mouth, closes it again. He has no idea what to say—just like the first time. The cold has put a flush to Jihoon’s cheeks, contrasting beautifully with his pale skin and mussed brown hair, and Seungcheol thinks that he is quite possibly the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

Then Jihoon turns to him, with  _that look_  in his eyes and  _that smile_  on his lips, and Seungcheol has to revise that statement. Distractedly, he considers that this is likely to happen over and over again, for the rest of his life. He can’t find a single fault with that.

“Jihoonie, aren’t you freezing?” Seungcheol whispers reverently, giving the hybrid him a pitying once-over that turns slower and more appreciative as it goes on, his gaze lingering on Jihoon’s bare chest and thighs.

Jihoon stands, stretching in a vaguely feline manner before pressing his lips together in a pout, but his eyes are still smiling. “Yes—absolutely. But I wanted to surprise you.” He murmurs, tail curling lazily to one side.

Seungcheol smirks as he drops down heavily on the couch. He feels he has license now to eye Jihoon up a bit, so he does. And he enjoys it too, taking in the lean legs, the trim waist. Then he makes a tutting noise, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Did you get that lingerie the day we went shopping? I thought you were up to something you naughty, naughty kitten. I wouldn’t have guessed it was this.”

“I thought about tying a big bow around my waist, but I'm pretty sure it would have looked really stupid. Plus, it might have broken up the view. Getting the box delivered was the hardest thing to plan. I had to get Wonwoo to help eventually.” Jihoon explains, looking a little proud of his genius.

Seungcheol astounds himself by managing to sound completely calm and controlled when he says “Wonwoo saw you in these panties?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “No! I had a dressing gown on before I climbed in you idiot.” Jihoon’s voice, though still low and purring, was lightly chiding. “Don’t worry, I didn’t give him a private show or anything, I know what you’re like. Hell— _he knows_ what you’re like! He was second guessing the whole thing he was so afraid of pissing you off.” he answers, and his expression would look like a smirk if there weren't so much warmth in the smile.

He reaches forward almost tentatively, setting his hands at Jihoon's hips, his fingers curling around Jihoon's slim waist. When the touch earns him a small mewl, he tightens his grip and gives a sudden, insistent tug that draws a startled mewl from Jihoon and lands him astride Seungcheol's lap. Right where he needs to be.

"Happy first year anniversary Cheollie." Jihoon whispers. A content purr and a delicate lick at his chin is the only thing the hybrid manages, before Seungcheol tips his head down.

When Seungcheol kisses him, Jihoon comes to life beneath his hands. The cool façade melts into friction and flame, and Jihoon's lips part at the first light touch of Seungcheol's tongue. Welcoming. Eager.

He presses into the kiss, mouth an open offering that Seungcheol is all too ready to accept. Seungcheol’s hands drag Jihoon flush against him and he slips his fingers beneath the lace in shameless, possessive exploration.

Jihoon’s solid and firm beneath his hands, and he follows easily when Seungcheol directs him with pointed touches—shifting and pressing and manoeuvring them both lengthwise across the couch until he can feel the full length of Jihoon's body beneath him. He negotiates a space for himself between Jihoon's legs, carefully slipping off the fabric, and isn't surprised to find Jihoon already as hard as he is.

They don’t stopped kissing. At this point, Seungcheol is thinking about giving up oxygen for good.

…………………..

Afterwards, they’re lying on the sitting room floor where the glow of the Christmas tree seeps out like a beacon, colorful fairy lights sparkling like stars in the shadow-filled room.

"So-I uhh—think it’s only fair you get to open a present early, since I got to open one.” Seungcheol says, brushing a kiss over Jihoon’s collarbone.

“I thought you said Santa would kick my ass if I peeked at anything wrapped under the tree.” murmurs Jihoon, shifting to give Seungcheol more access to his neck.

“It’s true, he will.” Seungcheol punctuates his statement with bites underneath Jihoon’s jawline that make him twitch and sigh and put his hand in Seungcheol’s hair, pressing him closer. “But this present isn’t wrapped exactly, so it doesn’t count. And it’s not so much a present as it is a promise.” He adds, leaning up on one elbow to rummage through his discarded clothing for the tiny velvet box in his jacket pocket, not giving himself a chance to over-think it and chicken out.

Jihoon's expression is suddenly intent, like he's watching everything, waiting with a curious air of expectation; perhaps he can scent how nervous Seungcheol is. Seungcheol's not sure if that makes it easier or harder.

He hands Jihoon the box carefully, but his throat closes tight at the thought of trying to find words for all this. It's too much, an overwhelming tidal wave of things he needs to say but can’t vocalize without getting it all twisted around and wrong. There's an intensity here that terrifies him.

“Go on—open it up.” He murmurs, sitting on the floor opposite Jihoon because he wants to make sure he has his attention.

Jihoon opens the box slowly to reveal a silver ring. He looks genuinely surprised for a long moment, but then he frowns, a deep frown that looks conflicted, uncomfortable. “This is too small to fit around my tail.” He pouts, holding the ring between his thumb and forefinger, demonstrating how the ring does in-fact not fit over the tip of his tail.

Seungcheol can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of his throat. “It’s not for your tail Kitten, you wear it here.” He says, carefully taking the ring from Jihoon’s hand and sliding it over his finger.

Jihoon blinks at him, eyes wide and dark as he processes his words. “It’s for my finger? But, isn’t that where,” He pauses brows furrowing again, but already the first hints of revelation are starting to brighten in his eyes. He inhales sharply, as if he has never thought such a wonderful thing could ever occur and turns his eyes up to meet Seungcheol’s.

Seungcheol sees the same barely banked embers of anticipation that are humming in his own chest. He smiles helplessly, trying to let his eyes speak for him because he doesn't trust his words to cooperate, which is a shame because he had a whole  _thing_  planned for this. He’s swimming in his emotions, possibly even drowning a little. The only bit that’s clear to him right now is that he loves Jihoon with everything he is and he wants them to be together forever. Maybe that’s all he really needs to know.  “Jihoon, will you-“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish before he’s abruptly attacked by the hybrid, who grabs his face and kisses him before he can say a word.

He doesn’t miss the breathless “Yes!” Jihoon whispers into his mouth and his heart flutters like a caged bird in his chest, the sound of it erratic and wild and happy, so  _happy._ He only has a moment to let relief sink in before he is literally nuzzled within an inch of his life.

** Fin. **

** **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the CHEEEEEESSSEEEEYYYY ending. But It's Christmas and Jicheol and.....sigh.....I couldn't very well angst the ending. 
> 
> 1) Hope you enjoyed by Jicheol Hybrid Au--that as meant to be like two chapters long and has mutated into--well this.  
> 2) I really enjoyed writing this and may continue the story in another series--something shorter, or maybe just Jihoon kitten observations etc.  
> 3) Sorry about the Gifs but......I like gifs.  
> 4) Apologies if you were expecting some smut in the end too--I thought i'd loaded this fic with enough smut to be honest.  
> 5) Thank you for reading and feedback is always appreciated :)


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